


Talk to me, Sammy!

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Series: Saving Sammy [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Sam Winchester, Abusive John Winchester, Car Accidents, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Parental Jody Mills, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Recovery, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Dean Winchester left the family when his brother was just fifteen, and for three years, Sam had to deal with John. Without his elder brother to keep the peace, John had been less than kind to Sam. When a car accident leaves John in hospital, Sam finds himself lost.





	1. The Life of Sam Winchester

‘Get up.’ It wasn’t a question, and the youngest Winchester knew better than to argue. Sam rose his head slowly, wondering what could possibly warrant attention at 5am in the morning. He knew better than to argue, rolling out of the bed and pulling on jeans, trying to ignore the still-sore cuts. The same was done with the shirt, before he grabbed the hoodie and headed down the stairs. The house they’d rented was a pretty plain one, John Winchester felt no need to lavish his youngest child with luxury.

His father was seated at the kitchen table, raising his head as Sam walked in. He was quick to bow his head in his father’s direction, sinking into the seat and waiting to be spoken to. Speaking out of term was a guaranteed way to get hit. John Winchester had been moody for the past three years, ever since Dean had left the trio. Sam messaged his brother every so often, telling him that they were fine. That he was fine. It was the truth, Sam Winchester could deal with worse than his father.

‘You’re late.’ Sam didn’t argue, staring at his father slowly and trying not to be confused. He wasn’t late, he’d got down the stairs as quickly as possible. The silence wasn’t a good answer either, a sharp bang was heard as the mug was brought down onto Sam’s hand. It was better than a fork, he mused, trying to ignore the throbbing.

‘Sorry, Sir.’ Eighteen-years old and still acting like a child, he thought miserably as he stared at the elder man. If he had been brought down to the kitchen this early, chances were there was something his father wanted.

‘We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Get packed.’ No offer of where they were going, and Sam didn’t presume to be important enough to ask. Packing up what little stuff he had, he looked down to the photo of him and his brother. Trying to run was pointless, Dean would never forgive him for running away from Dad, and John would never voluntarily let Sam leave.

It took him twelve minutes to be by the door, staring at the Ford pick-up truck. Dean had left with the Impala, the only thing they had left after the housefire when they were kids. A housefire that John blamed him for, considering it was his nursery light that short-circuited and resulting in his Mother going up in flames.

John looked unimpressed as Sam loaded his duffel into the back, before heading to the Passenger seat. The door slammed shut just as he opened it, narrowly avoiding the already-bruised fingers that had been hit by the mug. Sam held his breath, tensing up as he looked down at his father. Always dangerous, being so tall, and so Sam had a habit of crouching to appear smaller than he really was.

‘In the back.’ Sam didn’t argue, climbing into the backseat and ignoring his father as he got behind the wheel. Wherever they were going, it wasn’t his issue. John wouldn’t tell him, and if he asked, it would probably just get worse for Sam. He wasn’t stupid enough to try, so settled for reading a book as they left the house.

Eight hours later, Sam was dying to stop. He had long-since abandoned the book, looking to his father in the hope that John would need to stop. John had stopped for Gas, but had left the car locked, an evident sign that he was in a bad mood. Sam was genuinely considering using the empty plastic bottle on the floor when the truck pulled over at a crappy looking motel.

‘Get us a room.’ John snapped, not bothering to give him any money. Sam hadn’t really expected him to, taking his own wallet out of his pocket and heading to the reception. The question was, what kind of room did John want? It was always a guessing game, sometimes he wanted a room with two Queens in, sometimes he wanted to be completely separate to Sam. Getting it wrong would piss him off, but John had specifically said “us”, so Sam took a shot. One room, two Queens.

Being incorrect sucked. It had gone badly, John opting for a dinner of beer before Sam had been reacquainted with the leather belt that he wore, studs digging into his skin. Twenty lashes, counted out verbally, Sam was exhausted. Sitting on the now blood-stained floor, trying to ignore the throbbing in his back, he watched his father take the blankets off of one of the beds. He removed one of the pillows, chucking them in the direction of the corner of the room.

‘That’s where an animal should sleep, Sam.’ He stated, turning the lights off as he slipped into the bed. Sam, once sure the man was asleep, shuffled towards the bathroom. It was hard to clean the cuts without making them worse, but once he had looked over his shoulder into the mirror enough to make sure that the marks weren’t too bad, he put his shirt back on and headed to the corner. Curling up, as small as he could possibly be, Sam hoped that wherever they were going, it was somewhere nice.

He was woken to the smell of smoke, looking across to see that his father was smoking. Another thing that had started since Dean had left, and usually Sam made a good ashtray. The youngest Winchester stood slowly, wincing as the pain in his back returned, before grabbing his duffel and walking towards the bathroom. Washing quickly, he dressed for the day and checked his phone, hardly surprised to find that his brother hadn’t messaged.

The messages had slowed down to one a month, Dean rarely spoke of anything other than how he was enjoying his life. A job as a mechanic with Bobby Singer, their kind-of Uncle. He’d joined a boxing club, meeting a trainee-psychiatrist friend called Castiel, whom Dean had called “cute”. Apparently, Castiel had a brother three years older than him, a year older than Dean, who was annoying. That was about all Dean ever spoke about.

John watched him as he walked out, gesturing to the cigarette burning in between his thumb and forefinger. Sam hesitated, knowing that long-term it would be better to not deny. He walked across, rolling up his left sleeve and offering his arm. The pain was welcome, not that Sam would ever say that aloud, and he waited until his father had walked to the car to wash and dress the new scar.

He reached the truck, sitting in the back just in time as his father sped off, back onto the Interstate.

‘Three hours left till our destination. Steve called, he’s got a job for you.’ Ah, that was why his father hadn’t mentioned where they were going. If Sam was needed, it meant they wanted research done. It meant they needed brains. It was the only thing Sam was good at, thinking fast. He could get the research done in time for whatever criminal activity Steve was going to do, and John would get paid for it. Sam bit his lip to stop himself from arguing with his father, knowing that it was a bad idea. A really bad idea.


	2. Pet Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam does as he's told, but even so, is it enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, please leave comments!

Steve had been planning on committing credit card fraud. He needed money to move to an offshore account, which was why Sam was currently hacking into accounts and moving money so discreetly that he doubted anyone would even notice that there was a problem. The laptop was his, one of his most prized possessions besides his phone, but he had to keep wiping them after jobs like this. It would be safer to chuck them, but he couldn’t afford a new one. Well, he could if his father gave him the money that Steve was paying John for this job.

It sucked. His fingers hurt, he was sure that the cuts on his back needed tending to, and the fact that his father was sitting there drinking wasn’t helping. The smell of alcohol was enough to turn his stomach over, he refused to touch the stuff. He couldn’t. John watched him carefully, Steve sitting on the couch and telling his father a story about some college kid he had been banging. Sam was ignoring the conversation, trying to ensure his coding was secure enough to ensure that nobody could trace what he was doing.

‘How much does she get paid for that? Lending out her body?’ John inquired, not that he really cared. It was a threat, one that he had made before. Apart from a handful of occasions, nothing like that had happened. Only if Sam disagreed with his father, or the memorable time last year that he had tried to run. Big mistake, that one.

‘A lot, you could make a living from it. Well, not you.’ Steve stated with a laugh, before catching John’s gaze and looking to Sam. He refused to look at anything other than the computer screen, although he knew his cheeks were starting to flush. Suddenly, the cigarettes and the belt didn’t seem that bad. In fact, Sam would choose them any day over what his father was suggesting.

The thought popped into his head again. Well, two thoughts. The first was telling Dean, but he shoved that down quickly. His brother loved John, there was no way in Hell that he would believe Sam. Plus, Dean had a built a life for himself, it wasn’t fair on him to snatch that away. Sam deserved this, he had been responsible for his mother’s death, for tearing the family apart. The second idea was the more appealing, his own death. With him dead, he didn’t need to worry about his Dad. Dean could live his life, John would drink himself to death, Sam would be safe. Dead, sure, but he would be away from this.

The issue was that Sam was cowardly. For all the cuts on his thighs and hips, he didn’t quite have the commitment to kill himself. Over the past three years, he had called the hotline over fifty times. Every time he spoke to them, he had to ensure that nothing was given away, considering he was a criminal.

‘Mm, a living out of it, hey?’ John stated, sipping the beer lazily. He hadn’t always been like this, but once Dean had gone… Mental abuse had been fine, the two brothers had grown up with that. But at fifteen, when Dean left, Sam had very little to rely on. He sucked in air, stopping typing as he watched the transaction go through. It had taken him half an hour less than what he had predicted, he hoped his father would appreciate being able to leave early.

‘I’m done, Sir.’ He pushed the chair back, shutting down the tabs and sweeping the laptop. Steve checked his phone, clinking bottles with John as he offered them dinner. John, annoyingly, accepted the offer. Sam packed away his stuff, making sure to have all of it in the backseat before returning.

With John’s friends, there were very few who would stick up for him. Steve was definitely not one of them, he seemed amused as John tapped the floor by his foot, Sam sinking down next to it. His food consisted of a third of John’s portion, sitting awkwardly by his father’s feet as he waited for them to be able to leave. It was cold, his bones ached, and more importantly, he had no desire to stay with Steve if he got drunk.

As the conversation turned more lewd, Sam allowed himself to slip away into his subconscious, ignoring his father petting his head like he was a dog. He was safe inside his own mind, far away from the horrible life he had to live.

‘Try this, Sammy.’ John offered out the blunt, the smell of weed soaking through the room. He shook his head, earning a kick to his knee, but the issue wasn’t pressed. He stayed by his father’s side until it was time to leave, where he was made to sit in the back. The car pulled away, and Sam rested his head against the side of the truck. Silently, tears fell, the dark hiding them from his father’s gaze. He was fine, this was fine.

The truck hurtled down the road, John singing loudly as he drove, probably a mixture of drunk and high. Sam didn’t question it, looking to his bag where his phone was. If he messaged his brother, would he reply? Would he even care? Unlikely, what was Sam supposed to say? Instead, the youngest Winchester itched the burn on his arm, enjoying the pain that it caused. It helped him focus on the fact that they had just done something illegal.

He was almost asleep when the tire ran over something, a bang sounding as the tire burst. The truck swerved, probably going too fast, and Sam was thankful for the seatbelt as the car started spinning. In the dark, it was utterly terrifying. The bag hit his thigh with suck a speed that he felt the bruise threaten to form, crying out as the car stopped moving, tipping slightly as if they were caught on a ledge.

Forcing his eyes open, Sam stared to the front seat. The airbag was deployed, his father slowly raising his head. They were tipped, the car still shuddering as Sam realised what he could see out of the windscreen. Water. With a shout from John, who attempted to lunge for Sam, the car tipped forward off whatever was holding it up, and hit the freezing water.


	3. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's at the hospital, and is stuck blaming himself.

Sam’s eyes flicked open, hand still gripping the bag with his life possessions. His father was slumped over the wheel, blood trickling down the side of his head, but nowhere near as fast as the water was pouring in. It pooled around them, freezing water that felt like the end. Sam tugged at the seatbelt, body screaming out as he lunged for the door. The handle stuck solid, not willing to give in to the endless torrent of water on the other side.

Water was filling up sharply. He was pretty sure that the car was going down, and the water was rushing in faster than he could get out. Climbing to the front of the car, he prayed the electrics were working for just a tiny bit longer. When the window didn’t roll down, Sam turned to his father. Hesitantly reaching around his waist, his fingers tightened on the gun. The shot broke the glass, and although Sam saw the water rushing in, he couldn’t hear it. The shot had left his head ringing, so he struggled against the torrent of water that was now pushing him back in.

He made it half-way through the window before he looked back to John, and in the split second he thought about it, lunged back for the seatbelt. He tore it off, gripping the leather jacket and hauling them. His lungs burnt as water submerged his head completely, kicking the two of them out into the lake. He could see the top, the surface, where lights were shining down. Sam kicked harder, the bag looped round his neck and his father tugging behind, pushing his lungs until he thought they would burst.

Arms grabbed him, the weight of his father gone as someone hauled him out, and Sam sucked in precious oxygen. Garbled voices were around them, asking questions he couldn’t comprehend as he tugged the bag to his chest, shivering on the wooden platform. His dad lay on the side, a man performing compressions as the group around them continued to panic. Something warm hit his shoulders, a jacket that the man in front offered. Sam sat still, numb to the pain that was spreading through his exhausted muscles as he stared at his dad.

The ride to the ambulance was quiet. After the paramedics had figured out Sam didn’t want to be looked at, they had wrapped him in shock blankets and placed him next to his father. He didn’t particularly want to be there, but he didn’t say that aloud. The doctors rushed his father off, a young nurse turning to Sam as he stood in the reception, dripping water all over the floor.

‘Mr Winchester? If you could come with me, I can get you a change of clothes.’ That did sound nice, so Sam left his father and followed her. Clothes were provided, a hoodie luckily included, and Sam sat in the waiting room for news of his father. A nurse dropped by to tell him that his brother had been called, and would be here the following day. Sam didn’t even know what the time was, so it didn’t particularly matter to him.

He’d saved his father. That was all he could think about as he sat on the itchy chairs, fiddling with the hem of the jumper. He’d saved his father, knowing what would happen if he survived. Sam didn’t expect a thanks for pulling him out of a lake, he expected the blame to be put on him. Sam’s bag had been dried, and he looked in it to see the phone may be wrecked, but the laptop that had been encased in his leather jacket was alive. That was good news, he could live with that.

When the doctors explained that his father had suffered serious head trauma, that although the swelling on his brain was gone he was still stuck in a coma, Sam just stared at the man on the bed. John Winchester, brought down by a knock from a steering wheel. John had money to cover this, so he could remain on the support they were giving.

‘If he wakes up, we aren’t sure the extent of damage.’ The Doctor explained, Sam sitting on the chair and wondering if the cigarette burn on his arm was infected. It was painful, redder than they usually were. He’d need to get it sorted before Dean arrived, he knew that. God, what if Dean blamed him for this? He was close with Dad, he was sure to be pretty angry.

Outside, he could hear people discussing the levels of alcohol and drugs that they had found in John’s system. He had been tested briefly, having been cleared when it he came up negative. It seemed obvious to Sam, he would never drink. Not if it turned good men into monsters like John.

‘Sam?’ The nurse, the nice one who had got him clothes, was in the room. The doctors must have gone, leaving just the two of them. Three of them, he reminded himself. His father was on the bed, still alive. Because Sam had dragged him from a lake.

‘Yeah?’ He croaked, wondering if he could trust her. Maybe she could help.

‘I asked if you were hungry.’ He was, but he didn’t really think he deserved food at the moment. His father was lying unresponsive on a bed, on a trip that Sam was responsible for. It seemed like the Universe had made a decision for him. Sam swallowed, thinking of the times he’d wished John dead. Dean would murder Sam if he ever found out the truth.

‘I… No. I’m good.’ She nodded, turning back to the door when he blurted out the words that his brain had been struggling to process.

‘I think I’m hurt.’ She turned back, face neutral as she studied him.

‘From the accident?’ He wondered why she would ask that, before realising that he hadn’t exactly been acting like a person recently, just sitting and staring at people as they tried to explain stuff.

‘Yeah.’ He lied, watching her walk to the trolley and put on gloves. He glanced to his dad, not wanting this to happen here.

‘Could we go somewhere else?’ The nurse nodded, and before long, Sam was sitting in one of the cubicles on the ward. The nurse politely inquired as to the injury, Sam carefully peeling the hoodie up his arm. Her eyes widened, studying the burn with intensity, before she got to work cleaning it. Sam didn’t make a sound, watching the wall rather than the wound.

‘Any others?’ He shook his head, the others weren’t infected like this one had been. She put antiseptic cream on it, wrapping the wound. Her fingers traced the silver scars on his inner forearm as she bandaged, but the nurse didn’t comment on them. Sam was glad of that, he didn’t fancy explaining them to someone.

‘I know that wasn’t from the accident, Mr Winchester. If you need help, you just have to ask.’ She stated, taking off the gloves. Sam pretended like she hadn’t spoken, watching another nurse poke her head around the curtain and state that his brother had arrived. Sam’s chest tightened, but he didn’t say anything as the nurse turned to him. Time to face his brother.


	4. Settling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a shot at a new life, right?

Dean looked the same. Just a little more mature, stubble lining his jaw and a worried expression on his face. Sam imagined he looked pretty different, but he didn’t comment on it as he stepped into the room. He didn’t recognise the dark-haired man with him, but the man found his gaze immediately. Bright blue eyes, shining with concern. He must be close with Dean, Sam thought, as he walked into the room. Dean looked up at him, the concern melting when he stepped forwards.

‘Sammy.’ Sam took a breath as Dean pulled him in for a hug, awkward now that Sam was taller, and hesitantly put his arms round his brother. He pulled back as soon as it was polite, looking to the man that was seated in his chair.

‘Sam, this is Castiel. Cas, this is my brother.’ Castiel smiled at him, Sam nodding as he looked back to John. He hadn’t realised he was tense until he saw his father still lying still, and he forced the muscles to relax. John wasn’t going to jump from the bed and throttle him, all was good. Dean was talking to the Nurse that had cleaned his injury, the woman explaining that it was the Doctors orders that Sam be taken home for rest. Home, an interesting term considering the man in front of him was supposed to be his guardian.

‘I’ll take him home. If there’s any change…’

‘We will inform you, Mr Winchester.’ That was nice, maybe Sam would be addressed by his first name now that Dean was here. Mr Winchester made him feel old, and worse, like his father. Dean told him they would go back to Lawrence, that Sam was more than welcome to stay with him. Figuring the appropriate thing to do was to thank his brother, he did just that. Dean seemed concerned, the frown that had been there originally returning as he studied him. Sam tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie, worried that his brother had suddenly gained x-ray vision.

‘Come on, you can sleep on the journey home.’ That was the best offer Sam got, and he followed his brother out to the car. It was the Impala, unsurprisingly, and before it could get awkward with who would sit in the passenger seat, Sam slipped into the back. His laptop and bag clutched tight, he watched as the urban land turned to scenery as they raced towards his brother’s home.

 

The house was pleasant enough. Four bedrooms, which meant there was room for him. Sam didn’t comment, accepting the room with a thankful smile. Gabriel, the third housemate, would be home this evening. Dean asked if he needed anything, and Sam stated that he would like some time alone. His elder brother seemed concerned, but agreed to the terms, leaving Sam alone. The youngest Winchester sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room he had been given, and at his measly supplies. He would need stuff, but he didn’t have a lot of money. And there was no way he would ask Dean.

A job. That was what he needed, really. Deciding that wasn’t going to be easy, he decided that he didn’t want to be in the house much longer. He didn’t need Dean so close to him, in fact, after three years apart it seemed odd to have his brother in the same house. Sam grabbed the jacket that had survived the lake-dip, putting it on as he headed down the stairs.

‘Where are you going?’ Dean called from the kitchen, looking at him with concern. Castiel remained impassive, looking between the two brothers carefully.

‘For a walk.’ Sam snapped, regretting the anger that he laced the statement with as he strode out. His brother hadn’t done anything wrong, it was Sam who was guilty, yet he was treating his brother like it had been him that had put John in a coma. Sam shook his head in frustration, heading to the local bar to get a soda.

He was happy drinking the coke, watching a woman with a pixie-cut hairstyle struggle to find similarities between three sets of columnar numbers, looking to be credit card purchases. Sam found the pattern almost instantly, watching the woman grow more and more frustrated when she couldn’t. If John had seen him do this, he would have been hit. No, worse. But Sam ignored that and walked across, careful to keep his muscles tense.

‘Ma’am? If I may, you’re looking at it wrong.’ He gently took the pencil, waiting to see if she would stop him. When she didn’t, he quickly drew the connections between the two, watching the dates as he did so. When he’d finished linking them, he put the pencil back down.

‘How did you do that?’ She inquired, sounding honestly shocked. He smiled, feeling a blush raise to his cheeks. His father had never praised him or even asked about his work, this woman seemed honestly surprised by his abilities.

‘Good with numbers.’ Sam replied hesitantly, adjusting the collar of his jacket. The woman gestured to the chair opposite, and Sam accepted. He figured it would be rude to decline.

‘Sheriff Jody Mills, it’s a pleasure.’ She offered out her hand, and Sam accepted. If he’d known she was a Sheriff, he wouldn’t have approached. Cops were good at figuring people out, and he had too much to hide.

‘Sam Winchester, pleasure’s mine.’ He smiled, for a second remembering watching his brother and father charm people. His smile was genuine, but he knew that he shouldn’t get too attached to anyone in the town. He didn’t need to, it was a bad idea.

‘Dean Winchester’s brother?’ Sam felt his smile fade, and realised the Cop noticed almost immediately. She opened her mouth, probably to backtrack, but Sam beat her to the punch.

‘Yeah.’ He bluntly stated, taking another sip of his soda.

‘You good at analysing people, Winchester?’ Sheriff mode was initiated, and Sam fell back into the conversation.

‘Relatively.’

‘Come by the station tomorrow morning, I got some sheets I could do help with.’ Sam agreed, offering a “good evening” when he realised it had hit 6:30. Walking back to Dean’s house, he wondered if staying in the town maybe wasn’t an awful thing.

The kitchen had three people in, the third one a tiny midget-man who had whiskey-eyes and a grin when he turned.

‘You must be Sam Moose Winchester, I’m Gabriel.’ Moose wasn’t the worse name he could be called, so he greeted the eldest of the trio before excusing himself to his room.

‘Don’t you want dinner?’ Dean asked, gesturing to a plate of food. Sam’s stomach coiled, and he swallowed to stop the bile rising.

‘I’m okay, thanks. Not hungry.’


	5. Life isn't simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam struggles with his new life, and hiding things from Dean doesn't help

Sam woke early, avoiding his brother who he knew was sleeping in Castiel’s room, having heard his brother last night talking to the other two in the trio about how he was worried Sam would be homophobic because of his upbringing with John. Sam had felt hurt that his brother presumed him like their father, then decided that his brother was right. Sam was a bad person.

He spent three hours going through papers and trying to explain how he found links between the cases Jody was giving him, but he quickly found out it was easier to just do it than to explain.

‘Fancy a job?’ Jody inquired casually, leaning against the wall as she sipped coffee. Sam rose his head, staring at the Sheriff.

‘Three days a week, you go through the papers and find me my links. Of course, when your father gets better you can leave.’ He barely hid the flinch at the end of the sentence, smiling up at the Sheriff and agreeing to the terms. Three days a week, and he was now earning money.

Sam knew he was being irresponsible with his dieting, hence why he was currently forcing himself to eat an apple. He felt bad enough about it, thinking of his father tied to tubes in a hospital while he walked away with barely a scratch. Well, not from the crash.

‘Hey kiddo, I’m making lunch. You want a sandwich?’ Gabriel walked through the kitchen, wearing a pair of striped yellow and green trousers and a Star Wars top. Sam blinked, before declining the offer.

‘I’m good, thanks.’ Gabriel gave him a measured look, Sam gesturing to the apple before heading for the stairs. Dean was standing in the hallway when he walked back out, staring at Sam with a look that told him he was in trouble. Standing behind him was Bobby, which made his heart tighten. He hadn’t seen him in so long, and although he was one of John’s friends, he was one of the good ones.

‘Hey, son.’ Bobby stated, stepping forwards. Sam kept the hug brief, not wanting to be so close to a man that smelt almost always of a mix of oil, alcohol and books. Sam wasn’t quite sure what Dean was attempting to achieve by bringing Bobby to see him, but he took it in his stride.

‘Me and Bobby are going to the garage. Sam, you’re joining me, Cas and Gabe for dinner.’ It wasn’t a question, so Sam nodded and walked to his room. The accident had happened three days ago, Sam knew he should stop with the guilt. His father had crashed the car, had been drunk at the time. That wasn’t Sam’s fault, he didn’t tell him to drink. But it was his fault that they had been there. Sam stripped off the jumper, looking in the mirror at the marks that littered his arms. The faint silvery scars, the cigarette burns.

Dean wasn’t like that. Dean wouldn’t do that to him, but it didn’t mean that Dean would forgive Sam for putting their father in a coma. Dean didn’t even trust him enough to tell him that he was in a relationship with Castiel. He shoved the jumper back on, grabbing his laptop to look at the files Jody had given him. He didn’t realise he’d been on the laptop for hours until there was a knock at the door.

‘Kiddo, dinner’s ready.’

Sam was given a chair. He tried not to show surprise, although he hesitated before slipping into the chair beside Dean. John, whenever they sat for dinner, would make him sit on the floor. Dean gave him a weird look, so Sam settled down and shut his mouth, worried he was causing issues. Would his brother kick him out if he didn’t listen to him?

His plate was stacked high, a huge burger and hundreds of fries. Sam bit the inside of his cheek, looking to the bowl of salad hesitantly. When the others started conversation, Sam took the opportunity to put salad on his plate. Greens were good, and mostly what his father let him eat, so his stomach didn’t complain as he nibbled on them. Dean was talking to Cas about the car he was fixing, Cas looking at him with such adoration that Sam was pretty confused at how they thought he wouldn’t notice. When the conversation had ended, Sam took a chance.

‘So, how long have you two been dating?’ He ended the question by popping a fry in his mouth, Dean opening and shutting his mouth like a guppy fish. Gabriel hid his laughter behind his burger, Castiel smiling warmly as he looked at him.

‘Just over a year. We met at the boxing club.’ Castiel seemed nice, although he had to be pretty good at reading people if he was training to be a therapist. It was probably a good idea to stay away from in-depth conversations.

‘Cute.’ Sam said, the smile genuine. He could see why his brother hadn’t been messaging as much, he had a life. That was good.

‘What about you, Sammy? Any love interests?’ Sam hid the flinch well, shaking his head as he thought about his father’s threats.

‘Nah. I’ve been busy.’ Brilliant excuse for an eighteen-year-old kid.

‘Doing what?’ Sam paused, his stomach already full. He’d managed a bite of the burger, a handful of fries and the salad he had put on his plate.

‘Helping John on some cases. Nothing major.’ He bit his tongue at the use of his father’s first name, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. Castiel had, however, and looked at Sam for a long time. Ducking from the gaze, he finished off the soda. It wasn’t time for Dean to find out everything, he’d never forgive Sam.

‘We’ll take you out some time. Have a break from being a nerd.’ Dean promised, and Sam smiled. His brother actually wanted to spend time with him!

 

He woke up screaming, gasping for air that wouldn’t enter his lungs. Water was freezing his body, his father’s bloody face glaring at him. When he woke, the sheets were twisted around his body and were sweat-soaked. Sam stumbled from the bed, going to the ensuite. His eyes focused on the razor, before he decided the easiest way to calm his beating heart was to dig his fingers into the most recent cigarette burn. It worked, his heart rate calmed, his breathing returning to normal. Walking back to the room, he took the pillows and blanket from the bed, walking to the corner.

Curling up, his back against the wall, Sam attempted to fall asleep, ignoring the pain in his back as the belt-marks itched. He was fine, his father was far away, and his brother liked him. Dean wouldn’t leave him, as long as Sam paid his way and didn’t piss him off.


	6. Drink, Sammy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam doesn't deal well with drunk Dean, and it brings back some bad memories.

They’d been drinking. He could smell it. Sam had been staying with Dean for two weeks, settling into the pattern of working Monday-Wednesday, and spending the rest of the week in the library. His brother had only attempted to talk about John once, asking why their dad had been drunk on the night of the accident. Castiel had quickly changed the conversation, Sam wishing the floor would swallow him up as he remembered his father staring at him, blood dripping down the side of his head.

The trio must have gone out drinking, because when Sam walked in on Friday evening after having dinner with Jody, the house stunk of alcohol. Sam tried not to flinch, hoping to go straight to his room and avoid the stench. Unfortunately, his brother spotted him.

‘Sammyyyy!’ He staggered towards him, one hand wrapped around a beer bottle. Sam felt his chest tighten, heart starting to pound as his brother edged closer. He was drunk, really drunk. On the couch, Gabriel was sprawled out, a bottle in hand. Castiel was seated at the dining table, looking slightly hazed but not as bad as the other two.

‘I’m just going up to my room.’ Sam stated, flinching when his brother wrapped an arm around him. He tried not to pull away, but the urge to cower of beg was building.

‘Come, have a drink Sammy.’ The nickname was hurting, Sam desperately trying to pull away from his brother. Dean wasn’t listening, tugging him closer, beer sloshing in the bottle. Gabriel was looking mildly concerned now, Castiel on the edge of the seat as if he was actually going to step in. Sam could feel his head starting to slip into the space he usually went to with John. With one last effort, he tried to pull away from his brother.

Dean lost his footing, slipping forward and smashing the bottle into the wall, then twisting as he almost hit the floor. Sam lunged, fearing the worst if Dean got injured, and grabbed his brother. The bottle cut into his stomach, blood forming as he stood his brother back up on two feet. Dean’s drunken haze vanished as he looked to the blood.

‘Sammy, oh god. We need…’

‘It’s fine, I’ll sort it.’ He fled from the room, hand clamped over the bleeding wound on his side as he tried to run. Dean was shouting something vaguely coherent behind him, but Sam shut the door and locked it behind him. Stumbling to the bathroom, he tugged off the shirt and stared at the wound. It was actually quite deep, it would need at least a couple of stitches. It would just add to the littering of scars on is body. At least this one wasn’t from John.

Stitching it up was hard, especially when Sam didn’t have any pain killers to numb the stabbing sensation. Once he had put five stitches in his side, he stuck a gauze over it to prevent infection. Jody paid him by the week, so he had enough money to buy a first aid kit. Sam hesitantly turned, looking at the scars on his back. Well, not scars. Not yet, they were still angry and red. It would take time, he figured, for them to fully fade.

His head hurt. He would need pain killers, but going downstairs didn’t seem like the best idea. He thought about messaging Jody, she seemed like she could be trusted, but then he remembered she was a Sheriff. If she found out about what John had done, she would tell Dean. And Dean would hate him. Breathing in silently, he changed his shirt to one without blood, heading to the corner. Wrapping the blankets tight, he hoped that sleep would stop the pain.

 

_‘Sammy, hurry up.’ Sam was trying to, he really was. Stitching himself up was difficult work, and his father didn’t seem to want to help. Annoying, considering he was the one that put the nasty cut just below his collarbone. His fingers shook slightly as he tried to stitch the wound up, probably from fear of John rather than the pain. When his father stood, every muscle in Sam’s body tensed. John had hit him for the first time four months ago, and it hadn’t taken long for Sam to get the message. He had nowhere to go, and anyway, who would want him?_

_John raised the bottle of whiskey, unscrewing the lid as he gestured to the wound. Sam found himself thankful, realising his father was actually thinking about his health. Presuming the whiskey would be poured over the wound to help it heal, Sam allowed his muscles to relax, preparing for the stinging sensation of the alcohol. Instead, John tipped the bottle, pulling his arm back just in time so the alcohol spilled over his combat boots rather than Sam._

_He watched his father do it, watched the smirk grow on his face. The bottle was put down, and John gestured to his boots. Sam stood, unsure, confused as to what his dad wanted._

_‘Well? Clean it up. Hands and knees, boy, let’s see that mouth work.’ It wasn’t the first lewd comment. Sam sunk down, pain soring across his body as he put pressure on his right arm, closest to the cuts. Lowering his head, he hesitantly licked at the alcohol staining the boot. Evidently not fast enough, because the crack of the belt hitting his back pushed Sam head-first onto the floor._

_‘Count.’ Sam tried, he really did, but no words came out of his mouth. His head was tugged back, hands gripping his hair so tight that he thought it would fall out._

_‘Sir, please.’ He mumbled, watching his father wrap his calloused hand around Sam’s neck. The squeeze startled gentle, but as John watched his son start to turn red, he tightened the grip. Sam rose his hands, attempting to pull John away, but he couldn’t. His vision started to blur, body gasping in need for oxygen._

_It came rushing back suddenly, his lungs filling with much-needed air as he was thrown down onto the floor, right into the soggy, whiskey-stained patch. Staying as still as possible, except moving to curl up, Sam lay there, hoping his agony would end._

It wasn’t unusual to wake up in such a state, and Sam was surprised by the fact that the clock was telling him it was 9am. It probably explained why someone was knocking on the door. Grabbing a shirt, and then a hoodie, he unlocked the door and opened it. Castiel, surprisingly, stood behind it. He didn’t look hungover, which was a surprise, but he did look concerned.

‘Dean is making breakfast, I suppose as an apology for how he acted last night.’ Sam felt guilt flood through his system, his brother thought he had to make it up to him? After Sam was the one that caused the issue in the first place, not being able to join in?

‘He doesn’t need to.’ Sam assured, raking his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make it look semi-decent. Castiel sighed, Sam looking around the room to spot his laptop on the bedside table.

‘He hurt you, I think he would like to apologise.’ Castiel stated, voice ever calm. Sam wondered how he did it, reaching for his laptop to take downstairs.

‘I’m used to… I mean, it isn’t a big deal. I’ve had worse.’ Sam swore internally at his blunder, hoping Castiel hadn’t noticed. When he turned, he found the man’s attention on the blankets in the corner rather than on him. Sam froze, unsure of how to explain why he was sleeping on the floor, Castiel looking at him with a measured look.

‘Er, I can explain.’ He began, then realised he really couldn’t. Castiel waited patiently, and Sam took a chance.

‘Didn’t want to stain the mattress with blood, figured it would be easier to replace blankets than a mattress.’ It was a crappy lie, even Sam knew that, but he stuck by it as Cas rose a brow. Then he shrugged, gesturing to the stairs.

‘I think it’s pancakes.’ Sam relaxed, following Cas to the stairs.


	7. Case too close to home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes a reappearance. Sam faces a difficult case.

Dean had tried to look at the cut, but Sam had assured him it was fine. Gabriel and Castiel sat on the kitchen stools, watching the exchange. Sam wondered if he could lift the shirt up to just show that one cut, or whether others would be visible. He cursed his plethora of scars, assuring his big brother that it was fine, that he wasn’t bleeding. Then, when Dean didn’t accept that, he told him he couldn’t see it because he had put a gauze over it.

‘It needed a gauze! Sam, let me see!’ His brother was raising his voice, enough to make Sam uncomfortable, but he held his tongue. This was his big brother, the same guy that had put plasters on his knees when he’d fallen over trying to keep up with Dean and John. He hesitantly reached for the edge of the hoodie, trying to calm his breath, when a knock at the door sounded. Dean shot him a look one that said “we’ll deal with this after”, and walked towards the door.

Sam slouched, breathing out heavily as he watched his brother go. It had been a close call, but he’d survived. He looked to his brother’s housemates, knowing they would probably have something to say, especially since Castiel had seen him sleeping on the floor. Sam gave them a look that he hoped was sane, before watching Dean walk back into the kitchen. Bobby.

‘Morning boys, thought I’d stop by. I have news.’ He took one of the chairs, stealing pancakes that were supposed to be Sam’s. He’d managed half, so was glad when the elder man tucked in. Dean took a seat, Sam preferring to lean against the wall. Bobby rose his head, glancing from Sam to Dean, a look of confusion on his face.

‘Did I interrupt something?’ Dean sighed, looking up to Sam. He didn’t respond to Bobby’s question, so his brother did.

‘Sam got cut last night, an accident with a bottle. My fault, the idiot won’t let me look at it.’ Sam had been called worse, but now that Bobby knew, he was unsure as to how he would escape the situation.

‘We’ll have a look at it once I’ve finished my pancakes.’ Bobby gruffed, Sam biting his lip and looking to the window. Maybe diving out of it would be less painful than having to deal with this, he thought miserably.

‘Anyway, did you know one of your daddy’s friends are dead? Guy named Steve.’ Sam sucked in air, staring at Bobby.

‘What?’ He stated, trying to hold back the worry in his voice. Dean gave him a weird look, but Bobby continued.

‘Suicide, apparently. Police found him hanging, then found out he’d been scamming money.’ Sam felt his small breakfast threaten to make a reappearance, he’d seen Steve two weeks ago. He’d been the one to scam the money. God, did Steve kill himself because of Sam? His heart rate was picking up, but he dug his nails into his palms to stop himself from having a panic attack in front of the people in the room.

Another knock at the door, maybe this time someone who would be able to save him from this awkward situation. Dean went to get it, Bobby looking up at Sam.

‘You knew Steve?’ Sam opened his mouth, probably to make some lame excuse, but the image of the guy staring at him like he was a piece of meat flooded through his mind. The smell of weed, the stench of alcohol. Carpet rubbing into his knees as John fed him.

‘No.’ He lied, looking to the doorway. Jody walked in behind Dean, who was glaring at him.

‘You didn’t tell me you were working at the Sheriff’s department, Sam.’ Ah, more trouble. When he got angry, Sam was reminded slightly of John. His brother wouldn’t hurt him like that, Sam was almost sure of it, but it didn’t stop it from being scary.

‘Nothing major.’ He stated, looking to Jody who looked tired.

‘Sorry for interrupting. Sam, could you come down to the station? We’ve got a case we could do with your help on, my team have jack-shit. Could do with some brains.’ Sam felt his smile threaten to show, Jody had just got him out of this situation, and for something he enjoyed doing! Hell yes!

‘Sure, let me grab my jacket.’ He walked to the closet, hearing Dean inform Jody that Sam had been cut last night, and would she bring it up. Sam didn’t mind, hopefully he could convince the Sheriff to tell Dean he was fine. That would be an end to all his problems.

‘Ready to go?’ Jody asked, appearing in the doorway. He grinned, nodding as he scooped his laptop up. He grinned at the cop car, sliding into the passenger seat with only the slightest bit of hesitation.

 

Child abuse. A kid, a hacker, who had been abused. The kid was now hacking into the department, and was causing a right-load of issues. His name was Max Miller, and it had become pretty obvious the kid needed help. Sam was sitting in the station, listening to the Cops as they ran round the station, talking about the fact that the kid, Max, had his step-mother and father held hostage in the house. He was communicating through some pretty high-level stuff, which was why Sam had been called in.

When the police cruisers arrived at the house, Sam was the one standing with the laptop against the bonnet, attempting to contact the kid. Guns were aimed at the house, people gathering to watch the show outside the police tape. No doubt Dean would hear about it, and come to get Sam.

‘Got anything?’ Jody inquired, in full cop-mode. Sam nodded, turning the screen to show her the coding whizzing past. She probably wouldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. He got it, and that was what was important.

‘Yeah, I’m contacting the kid. Message?’ Jody hesitated, before reciting a message claiming they could help him. Sam knew it wouldn’t exactly work, but typed it anyway. Sure enough, some pretty threatening messages came back. Sam shuddered, looking up to the house. It appeared normal, and neighbours had claimed they never knew anything was going on. Just that Max was quiet, and his father sometimes seemed a little short-tempered.

Sam, making sure Jody was far enough away, took a risk.

**Sam: Max, I know how you feel. I understand, but killing them won’t achieve anything.**

**Max: Sixteen years! How would you know anything? You cops are all the same, they deserve to be punished!**

**Sam: I’m not a cop, Max. My name is Sam, and trust me, I get it. My dad was a drunk, a bad one. But Jody? The Sheriff? She’s kind, she can help you. You just have to let her.**

**Max: You and the Sheriff can come in. Nobody else.**

Sam blinked, looking to the message. Closing the dialogue box, and making sure to wipe it, he called Jody across. She made her way to him, hand resting just over the gun.

‘Yeah?’

‘Max said he’d let us in the house. Just the two of us, he wants to talk.’

‘You’re not going in.’ Sam had expected that, hardening his face to show determination. The kid, if he killed his parents, would be the one getting the blame, no matter how bad the abuse. He wasn’t about to let that happen to a kid.

‘He has a knife. You’ve got a gun. I’ll stay behind you, but trust me, I think I can get through to him.’ Jody looked at him for a while, and he worried that he’d given too much away. Waiting for the reply, Jody turned and told her men she was going to attempt to talk to the kid. When she turned back to him, she pointed a finger in his face.

‘You stay close, and don’t get hurt.’ Sam nodded, looking up to the house. If he could save Max Miller, then maybe there was hope for himself.


	8. No Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the case, Jody talks to Sam about his dad.

Max Miller needed help. Jody was desperately trying to get him to put the knife down, her voice the soft-mothering one that she used sometimes when Sam was around. Max kept the knife firmly pressed against his father’s neck, the man tied up with a gag, his face the picture of terror. Sam had promised to stay back, but when the boy yanked his shirt up and showed the bruises littering his stomach, he couldn’t help but feel the pang of sympathy.

‘Max, Jody can help.’ Sam stated, Jody shooting him a glare that told him to stand down. He ignored her, taking a steady step towards the boy.

‘How did you get away?’ Max asked, tear-filled eyes turning to him. Sam tried to ignore Jody, telling himself she would be more concerned by the fact that the kid was threatening his family than what Sam said.

‘My father’s in hospital. I’m staying with my brother.’

‘So you didn’t get away. What happens when he gets out?’ Sam took another slow step forward, refusing to think about that possibility. He didn’t want John to come back for him, he didn’t want to be reminded of how he killed his mother.

‘Then I get help. Max, he can’t hurt you again. You just have to trust us.’ Trust. Sam thought it was quite ironic, considering he still blamed himself. Jody wasn’t saying anything, staying back as Max shuddered, tears spilling from his eyes.

‘It hurts. I don’t understand what I did wrong.’ Sam stretched his hand out slowly, keeping his eyes on Max.

‘I know. You didn’t do anything, it isn’t your fault.’

‘The nightmares, I can’t get away from him. Do you get them?’ He asked, and Sam knew he should say no, should say it gets better. He didn’t, just taking another slow step forwards. The kid smiled sadly, pulling the knife away from his father, taking a step back. Jody breathed out in relief, and Max looked down at the knife.

‘It doesn’t go away, but it gets better. I promise.’ Sam assured him, almost close enough to reach the boy.

‘I can’t.’ And with that, Max moved so fast that Sam couldn’t get to him, even though he lunged. Stabbing the knife straight into the side of his neck, blood spurting out as Max fell, Jody radioing for the paramedics. Sam watched the blood pump from the wound, trying to keep his hands round it, but Max was gone. His head tipped, eyes glazing over, and Jody was pulling him back.

‘Sam, come on Sam. Look at me.’ He watched the body, watched people rush in and cover it up. People helped the father and step-mother out, although they were both arrested, and he watched them be led to the cop car as he waited for the adrenaline to fade. Jody led him to the couch, wrapping a blanket round him and handing him a mug of something warm. He held it, the heat making his fingers tingle as he tried to concentrate.

If Max Miller couldn’t find peace, then what hope was there for Sam? He didn’t even have the courage to kill himself, what good was he? Dean would hate him, John could wake up, and he would lose everything. Jody was sitting by his side, her hand resting lightly on his thigh, right where the cuts were. He didn’t say anything, just watched as the house was mapped out and cops moved around. It was like everything was a blur, he didn’t understand why he was like this. Why he was such a failure.

‘Right, I’m taking you to my house, come on.’ Jody took his arm, and Sam didn’t protest. He allowed her to walk him outside, back to the cop car they had come in. He didn’t fight as she settled him in the front, her hands reaching across his body to grab the seatbelt. Tensing, Sam waited until she had moved away to relax. Jody wouldn’t hurt him, but it didn’t mean he wanted her close.

The drive was in silence, and when they arrived at her house, she led him through to the shower. The spare set of clothes were a surprise, but he knew Jody had been married at some point, before her husband had died in the military. Sam watched her put the clothes on the toilet seat, before she turned the shower on and turned back to him.

‘Have a shower, then come to the kitchen. I’m having a look at that cut, then you and me are going to have a chat.’ Sam watched her walk out, stripping the bloody clothes off him and stepping under the water. He took the gauze off, admiring the neat stitches that he had made, before scrubbing himself with Jody’s lavender bodywash. Admittedly, he may have taken longer than necessary to clean, but he knew he couldn’t escape the inevitable talk.

The jeans were slightly short, but comfy enough. The boxers were his, considering they hadn’t got blood on them. The shirt was a faded AC/DC top, his brother would have laughed. There was a hoodie, so Sam put it on, before walking to the kitchen.

Jody was sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in front of her. Opposite, there was another mug and a plate of what appeared to be peach slices. Sam took the seat, accepting the food when she gestured to it. They sat in silence, Sam thankful for the fruit, Jody watching him carefully. He wondered if maybe she hadn’t noticed what he’d spoken about.

‘I presume Dean doesn’t know.’ The silence was broken, Jody still watching him carefully. Sam nodded slowly, taking a sip of the coffee. Jody hummed, looking out of the window as Sam ate the last peach slice. His stomach didn’t complain, which was shocking considering he’d eaten half a pancake this morning as well.

‘Sam, this wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could.’ Jody assured him, but Sam was more worried that he was going to end up like the kid. After all, his father could wake up. He’d dragged him from the car, so if John came back, that was his fault.

‘I know.’ He mumbled, finally meeting her gaze. He was surprised by the compassion he found there, and for a moment wondered if his Mom was still alive, would she look at him like that? Dean had memories of their mother, but Sam had nothing. A picture of a blonde woman was all he had to remember the woman who supposedly loved him.

‘Right, let’s have a look at the cut. Jumper off.’ Sam hesitated, wondering what to do. The scars and burns on his arm would be visible, and he wasn’t sure if Jody knew.

‘Sam, I’m pretty sure that whatever you’re hiding, you don’t have to hide it from me. I won’t judge.’ Jody stood up, moving to the first aid kit as Sam took the jumper off, folding it and placing it on the table. When Jody turned back, her face remained impassive as she studied the burns on his arms, walking across and looking at his inner forearms.

‘Self-inflicted?’ She inquired, keeping her tone neutral. Sam nodded, waiting for her to say something. Sick, freak, abomination, usually what his dad resorted to.

‘Your Dad did this?’ She asked, studying the burn marks. Another nod on Sam’s behalf, his breath starting to become shallow as she looked at him. Apparently, she noticed the impending panic attack, changing topic.

‘Right, let’s see the cut.’ He pulled his shirt up, aware that the other scars would be visible. Her fingers were light against his skin, tracing the edges of the stitching that he had done. When she was content that it was alright, she applied a salve to his skin and put a new gauze over it. Sam breathed out, lowering the shirt.

‘Three things. First, that’s pretty good stitching. Second, I won’t tell Dean about this, but will tell him the cut is fine. Third, you can talk to me, Sam. I’m not here to judge.’ He wondered, even if it was for the smallest of moments, if he could tell Jody about the accident. About what his dad had made him do. Instead, he thanked her for her time, agreeing to dinner tomorrow night. She seemed pleased, offering to drive him home, considering it was already 3pm. He didn’t know how the time had gone by so fast, but declined the offer.

Walking would do him good. Promising to bring the clothes back tomorrow, Sam put the hoodie on and grabbed his bag, walking out of the door. It was relatively warm, warm enough that he got a few odd looks as he walked back with a hoodie on. He took the scenic route, walking through the Park and to the edge of the lake. Children were playing on the edge of it, Sam watching as he stared at the water.

Jody didn’t seem mad at him. So, even if he couldn’t tell Dean, he could tell Jody. Someone to confide in, that didn’t seem like a bad idea. He thought about it as he continued his walk home, reaching the house at half four. The Impala was gone, which meant Castiel probably wasn’t in either. Unlocking the door, he noted Gabriel sprawled out on the couch, raising his head as Sam walked in.

‘Deano and Cassie are at the movies, so you and me are grabbing dinner out. If that’s okay with you, Samshine.’ Sam had got used to the odd nicknames, and surprised himself when he agreed to dinner out. Gabriel winked, the flirtatious attitude only around when Dean wasn’t.

‘My treat, Samalam.’ Gabriel stated, Sam heading to the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he heard Gabriel shout after him about wearing the tight-fitting jeans. Finding himself laughing, Sam slunk away into his room, thinking how he could get used to this life.


	9. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel bond, followed by someone bad-mouthing Destiel

‘A three.’ Gabriel remarked, looking the woman up and down careful, sipping the beer as he did so. Sam looked at the woman, having pretty quickly figured out that playing this game with Gabriel was actually quite fun. Gabriel liked slutty women, hence why this one rated low.

‘Six.’ Rolling his eyes dramatically, Gabriel walked towards the bar, leaving Sam to drink his soda. He was actually enjoying the evening, Gabriel had ordered him a salad and a side of fries, which Sam had actually managed to stomach. They had discussed Gabriel working at the Candy store, which suited his personality so well, Sam wasn’t sure that the man had actually grown up.

When it came to talking about Max Miller, Gabriel had listened intently, not disturbing the rant Sam had about him. The elder man nodded, surprise crossing his face when Sam explained that Max had embedded a knife in his own neck.

‘Jesus, Sam.’ Had been his response, before he’s taken a sip of the beer. Unlike Dean, Gabriel didn’t push him to drink the alcohol he evidently didn’t want. Instead, he kept buying Sam coke, like he was doing now. When Gabe sunk into the booth, he slid the drink across, doing his best at a flirtatious smile.

‘Eight.’ Sam stated, looking to the cute guy that had just walked in the bar. Gabriel turned to look, and if he was surprised by the fact that he was a guy, he didn’t show it.

‘Six. I like my men taller.’ Gabriel commented, winking at Sam. He found the flirtation amusing, it was evident that Dean would kill Gabriel if he found out, which made it all the more amusing. They fell back into light conversation, Sam finding that he was enjoying this. Even if his dad woke up, he could stay here, right? He was paying his way, despite Dean’s arguments. He wanted to stay.

‘At risk of ruining this peace, you wanna tell me why you don’t drink alcohol, Sammoose?’ Gabriel asked it lightly, looking around the bar as if he wasn’t that interested, but Sam could tell he wanted the answer.

‘Dad got drunk a lot, I don’t like the smell.’ There, that was honest. Considering Gabriel had told him how both he and Castiel had been adopted by a man called Chuck, who had taken a bunch of orphans into his care, he figured he owed him something personal. Gabriel hadn’t known his mom, and his real dad had apparently only dealt with him for six years.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, but didn’t push it any further. Sam liked that, even though the man was outgoing, he didn’t take things further than was acceptable. He was about to speak up, probably to say something about the fact that Gabriel was being ogled by one of the girls at the bar, before the elder man’s phone started to ring.

‘Hey Deano… no… hang on slow down… we’re on our way.’ He hung up the phone, chucking bills down on the table as he stood.

‘Cas and Dean are hiding in an alley, some homophobic pricks are around. Come on.’ Sam followed, taking the passenger seat in Gabe’s car, despite the fact that he should probably have sat in the back. He didn’t trust Gabriel as much as he trusted Jody, not yet anyway, and it felt creepy sitting in the front. It was a ten minute drive, and it wasn’t hard to find them. Three large, bulky guys stood, blocking the entrance to a dingy alley.

‘Shit, maybe we should call reinforcements.’ Gabriel stated, looking at the men, Sam was already opening the door, worried for his brother. If Dean got hurt, Sam wouldn’t forgive himself.

‘Gabe, go get them.’ Sam stated, the three men were now turning, evidently seeing Sam as a new threat. He cursed his height, wondering why he had to be born a giant. It made it harder to disappear. Dean was slumped in the alley, Castiel holding him, blood dribbling from his brother’s nose. Gabriel moved past slowly, the men too busy watching Sam.

‘Look, we don’t want any trouble. Just let us take them home.’ Wondering where the Impala was, he looked across the car lot and spotted her parked up front. The truck next to her probably belonged to the Jackass’ that had hit his brother.

‘You one of them? A fag?’ Sam didn’t say anything, watching Gabriel help Dean stand, Castiel moving to the other side to support Dean.

‘Oi, answer, fag.’ The second man snapped, Sam looking back to them. He’d taken worse, a lot worse. If it came to it, he’d fight.

‘Seems you’ve already decided.’ Sam pointed out, the first guy lunging. His brother squawked, rather like a bird, but Sam had anticipated the hit. With John, avoiding a hit was a sure way to get beaten. With these guys, Sam could fight back. He caught the fist, twisting the arm and kicking the guy’s shin. Twisting the arm, the guy dropped to his knees. The other two rushed forwards, but Sam twisted harder and the man yelped.

‘Let. Them. Go.’ Sam snarled, keeping the grip firm. He watched his brother reach Gabriel’s car, Castiel taking the keys to the Impala and jogging across to her. Sam held firm, waiting until Castiel had pulled out of the car lot. Gabriel was waiting, and Sam twisted slightly and pushed the man forwards. He hit the dirt, and Sam jogged to the side of Gabriel’s Mazda, slipping into the back seat. Silence fell as Gabriel tore away.

Dean was in the back seat, blood trickling from his busted nose, body curled up. Sam didn’t hesitate, tearing at the edge of the hoodie to get fabric, using it to press against Dean’s bleeding nose. His brother whimpered, but didn’t complain as Sam held him. His shoulder was sticking at a weird angle, and Sam realised it was probably dislocated. Rather than risk popping it back in while they were moving, Sam pulled the hoodie off of his body, using it to create a sling around his brother.

The drive back was fast, Castiel already by the porch. Sam didn’t hesitate, lunging out of the car and round to his brother’s side.

‘Gabriel, unlock the door. Cas, first aid kit.’ They listened, Sam scooping his brother up like he weighed nothing and carrying him towards the house. Gabriel didn’t say anything about the burns on Sam’s body, and Sam didn’t offer an explanation as he carried his brother through, mindful of the shoulder. Sitting him down on the kitchen table, Castiel handed across the first aid kit. The first thing Sam did was clean his nose, prodding gently to ensure there was no break.

His shoulder looked painful, and Sam made light-work of cutting the shirt off. Removing the hoodie/sling, he took his brother’s arm and held onto it.

‘On the count of three, one… two…’ He pushed, hearing the click and Dean howl, holding it in place as his brother passed out. Sam eased Dean back onto the table, checking the bruises on his ribs for any breakages. Finding none, he forced himself to relax. His brother was fine, just a little beaten up.

‘Ice for his nose, heat for his shoulder.’ Sam told Castiel, who was staring at Sam’s burns. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he grabbed the hoodie and pulled it back over.

‘He won’t remember, and I want to keep it that way.’ He stated, attempting to sound confident. His voice wavered, but he didn’t back down. Castiel slowly nodded, as did Gabriel, and Sam left the room.


	10. Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam talks to Jody, then tries to do the same with the Novak brothers

‘As long as he’s okay.’ Jody finished, stabbing the potato. Sam nodded, having explained the story to her. She had seemed concerned by the fact that Gabriel and Castiel had seen the burns, asking why Sam hadn’t explained it to them. The answer had been simple, he didn’t want his brother finding out what had happened. In fact, that was the worst idea he could think of.

‘Can I ask why you don’t want Dean to know?’ Sam paused, staring up at the woman. He was enjoying her company, especially seeing as he didn’t have to hide from her. He was wearing short sleeves, it felt liberating.

‘I don’t want to be kicked out. John and Dean were always close.’ Close was an understatement, Dean was perfectly loyal to John. He’d heard Dean on the phone at least three times in these weeks since the accident, asking the hospital if there was any change.

‘And that made you jealous?’ It wasn’t a stab, Jody was just trying to learn.

‘No, it never really bothered me. When Dean left, it bothered John.’ He finished his portion of dinner, Jody never giving him too much. It made him feel better about not eating as much, although he was slowly regaining his appetite. Enough that he could stomach a meal.

‘Was… was it just the burns?’ Sam was glad he’d finished his dinner, because the question would put him off food for a lifetime. He didn’t look at Jody when he shook his head, not wanting to see the look of disgust on her face at the fact Sam hadn’t done anything to stop it. Jody didn’t say anything else, offering him dessert, which he declined.

‘Bobby invited me round for dinner on Wednesday. I presume you’ll be there.’ Jody commented as they walked out to the door, Sam grabbing his jacket to cover the marks. Sam had been given the same offer, accepting the invite as long as Dean was fit to go.

 

The walk back was pleasant, the house was quiet when he walked in. Heading straight to his room, he was surprised to find Dean’s door open. His brother was lying on the bed, Castiel curled up next to him, Gabriel slumped in one of the chairs on his phone. Sam could see how close the three of them were, even if his brother claimed he hated how annoying Gabriel was. Castiel and Gabriel looked up when he walked past, but Sam ignored the looks and headed for his room.

He didn’t bother locking the door. Stripping off the hoodie, he set up the laptop and settled back against the headboard. His bed was still missing covers, considering they were in the corner where he slept. Sam put his headphones in, perfectly ready to ignore the world, when the knock on his door broke his concentration.

‘Who is it?’ An important question, considering his arms were bare.

‘Castiel. And Gabriel.’ The gravelly voice of Cas came from the other side of the door, so Sam called them in. He didn’t bother covering his arms, although he did take out one of the headphones. Castiel walked in, Gabriel following, shutting the door behind them.

‘We were concerned… for you…’ Castiel looked awkward, as if he didn’t know how to word the sentence. Gabriel stepped forward, shoving his younger brother behind him.

‘Basically, kiddo, we’re concerned that someone’s been using you as a human ashtray. We won’t even mention the self-inflicted ones.’ Castiel hit his brother’s shoulder, the two looking at Sam for an answer. Sighing, Sam gestured to the couch in the room. They seemed pleased that he was letting them stay, but Sam was too busy trying to control his breathing. This was his brother’s best friend and boyfriend, there was no way they were going to keep it a secret from Dean. And when his brother found out…

‘It doesn’t matter, it’s over.’ As long as John stayed in the hospital, that was. Sam’s foot started bouncing slightly, nerves spilling over. He had spoken about this with Jody, but it was easier to do so with her.

‘Was it your Dad?’ Gabriel asked, without any mocking in his voice. Instead, his tone was full of concern and worry. Sam didn’t meet his gaze, not wanting them to know how much worse it was than a couple of burns on his arms.

‘Yeah, but it was only a couple of times. It’s fine.’ It isn’t fine, Sam was struggling to breathe, and his heart was pounding. He hoped they didn’t notice how tense Sam was, before Gabriel piped up again.

‘Right, so that’s why you sleep on the floor?’ Sam’s head was like a minefield, the words triggered something in him that made everything blow up. His legs guided him to the bathroom just in time for the bile in his stomach to rise, the food he’d enjoyed at Jody’s making a reappearance. Once his limbs had stopped threatening to give way, he stood up, flushed the toilet and cleaned his teeth.

‘Get out, please.’ He stated politely, although his fists were clenched and his mind was screaming at him. Castiel looked unsure, taking a step forwards as if he were going to comfort Sam. Gabriel was just staring at him, before he grabbed Cas’s arm and led him out of the room. Sam locked it, walking back to the bathroom and turning the shower on. Waiting until it was slightly hotter than he could take, he stripped off his clothes and stepped under.

Only once his skin was red, only when the haze in his mind had cleared, did Sam finally step out from under the water. Jody knew. Gabriel and Castiel knew. John was in a hospital. Steve was dead. People were finding out, and if they did, he’d lose Dean. He’d lose his brother.

He made it to the doorway before he turned, eyes focusing on the blade. It was a bad idea, but for once, Sam wanted to feel something other than useless. His fingers reached for it, running along the edge with just enough pressure to draw blood. He watched blood bead from the small cut, admiring it as it rolled down to his palm and pooled there. Sam didn’t even realise that he was making cuts on his wrist, tiny nicks to add to the blood dribbling to his palm, until the blood started to hit the floor.

He had been clean two hundred and sixty days on his wrists. Shame, he thought, as he cleaned up the mess, trying to ignore how calm his body was now that he had done that. He’d tell Jody, he figured, or maybe even one of the guys. He needed to tell someone, needed someone to stop him from doing it again. Sam hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it.

No. Sam was fine. He assured himself of that as he got dressed, wrapping the fabric around his wrist. He was fine, everything was fine.


	11. Lunch gone wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know what to say. I'm sorry about this.

Mario Karts was a game that he could play, and beat Dean. His brother swore as he got hit by a red shell, glaring at Sam. Castiel attempted to console his boyfriend, Dean was sitting on the floor in between Cas’s legs, and Sam watched with amusement as Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. The anger faded pretty quick, and Sam found it funny how much power Cas had over Dean’s moods.

Gabriel was on his team. The small man had his legs over Sam’s lap, head resting on the other edge of the couch. He was eating popcorn, occasionally reaching up to feed Sam some while he raced Dean. When he’d won all three races, he handed the controller to Gabriel. Cas took Dean’s controller, Dean telling them he was going to shower ready for the dinner tonight. Sam knew that Castiel would be joining him in the shower pretty quickly.

Sam had been at work this morning, and had promised to go to Jody’s before they went to Bobby’s for dinner. He would need to leave soon, but it was quite funny watching Castiel’s calm attitude slip away entirely as his brother bullied him.

‘Alright there, Samsquatch?’ Gabriel asked, and Sam realised he’d been holding Gabriel’s legs on his lap, tracing circles on the leggings the guy was wearing. Biting his inner cheek, telling himself it was Gabe, he wouldn’t get told off for such a thing, he shot him a devilish smirk.

‘Yeah, just admiring how short your legs are.’ Castiel burst out laughing, Gabriel lunging for him and attempting to tickle him. Sam snorted, the guy was basically half his size, and it took very little energy for him to put the eldest Novak flat on his back. Sam realised how close he was to him, pulling back sharply and heading to the stairs to get dressed.

 

Jody walked into Bobby’s house beside him, Gabriel and Cas already sitting down. Jody kissed Bobby on the cheek, holding out the Pie she had made for dessert. Sam grabbed a coke, sitting opposite Castiel, next to Gabriel as he looked around.

‘Where’s Dean?’ The question was mostly directed at Cas, the two were barely separated. Sam had been kind enough not to mention the excessive banging on the wall of Castiel’s bedroom earlier today after his shower, mostly because he was happy that Dean had found someone. The two of them were a cute couple, it made Sam happy to see them.

‘On the phone.’ Castiel stated, shifting slightly to cover up the hickey on his neck. Gabriel looked amused, but he quickly turned to Jody when she walked in. The group settled, plating up pasta as they waited for Dean to return.

‘So, Sam, how’s your job going?’ Bobby asked, looking between him and Jody. It had gotten round the town pretty quickly that Sam Winchester was working at the station, that he was phenomenally good at analysing and hacking. Lots of people were asking him for advice on how to be safer on their laptops, but when a middle-aged man comes in asking how to hide his search history, Sam struggled to keep a straight face.

‘It’s good. More challenging than the stuff I used to do.’ He took a bite of the pasta, realising he’d just eluded to the fact that he did this kind of stuff with John. Bobby didn’t seem to pick up on it, and Jody was already partly aware of what he had done for his dad.

‘That’s good. Are you going to come with Dean and I to the funeral next Friday?’ Sam hadn’t wanted to, going to Steve’s funeral seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Luckily, his answer was cut off when his brother walked back in. Sam was instantly on his feet, his brother had tears in his eyes and looked on the verge of breaking down. Castiel stood as well, but didn’t try to move forwards.

‘Boy, what’s wrong?’ Bobby asked, staring at Dean.

‘It’s dad…’ Dean stated, a tear trailing down his face. Sam breathed in, air rushing into his lungs. His brother was staring right at him, before a smile broke out across the sad complexion.

‘He’s awake. Doctors said he can come home soon. Sammy, he’s alive!’ Bobby was rushing across the room to pull Dean in for a hug, the two distracted enough that they didn’t notice Sam slump back down into the chair, his entire world crashing. Alive.

His dad was alive. John was alive, and was coming back. John was going to kill him. Or worse. Sam clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until he knew he’d drawn blood. Tears tracked down the side of his face, tears of bloody terror. Dean was laughing, clapping Bobby on the shoulder as he turned to Sam.

‘I can’t believe it, Sammy!’

_Yeah, Sammy. Can’t believe it._

‘Me neither, Dean.’ He stated, standing up to hug his brother back, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut. He needed to run. Needed to get the hell out of Kansas, out of the States. Needed to be anywhere where John wasn’t. John had been as good as dead, he’d seen the blood, seen the way his father didn’t move.

‘I spoke to him on the phone, I’m going to collect him on Friday. He can stay with us, I’ll sleep with Cas, if that’s okay?’ Dean turned to Castiel, Sam following the gaze to find his brother’s boyfriend staring right at him. Sam should have pointed out how bad the idea was, how bad it would be for John to find out that Dean was dating a guy. He didn’t say anything, the fear making his entire body threaten to give in. Sam wouldn’t let anything happen to his brother, even if his Dad tried.

‘Of course, Dean.’ He eventually stated, Dean grinning like an over-excited puppy at the thought of seeing his father. Sam sat back down, his head spinning dangerously at the thought of his father staying in the same house as him.

‘God, I’m getting a beer. Sammy?’ Dean walked across to the fridge, taking out a bottle and looking to Sam. He stared at his brother, wondering if he would have the courage now to end what John had started.

_You murdered your mother._

‘Yeah, sure.’ He caught the bottle his brother threw at him, popping the lid and smelling the drink. God, please, help. He took a long swig, it was hardly the first time he had drunk alcohol, but it was the first voluntary time. He ignored Jody staring at him, ignored Gabriel nudging him under the table, and proceeded to drain the entire bottle.

‘To Dad!’ Dean stated happily, tipping the bottle towards Sam. Sam stared at the last mouthful of his beer, clinking bottles with his elder brother.

‘To dad.’

He was going to die.


	12. Protect Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John joins the family.

Jody was standing in the Novak/Winchester household, waiting for Dean to arrive with his father. Sam sat at the kitchen table, Gabriel making coffee, Castiel sitting opposite Sam. His brother would be back any minute.

‘Sam…’ Jody started, like she had before, but the words didn’t seem to come. Sam looked up to her, praying that she would have some sort of answer. Praying she hadn’t noticed just how bad Sam actually was, praying she didn’t know about the twenty pills he had taken last night, before his body had thrown them right back up. He was still alive. And now he had to deal with that. Protect Dean.

‘If your father does anything…’ Of course he would. It was John, Sam didn’t expect hugs and kisses. He expected to be beaten to within an inch of his life.

‘Jody, he’s sober. He isn’t like that.’ He is. It wasn’t the alcohol, it was never the alcohol. But he didn’t say that, didn’t tell anyone that. He sat there, watching his hands tense around the coffee mug Gabriel placed in front of him, tried to calm him mind.

The Impala was rumbling, letting the group know that Dean was back. Sam stood slowly, keeping his shoulders hunched to try and appear smaller. Never be bigger than John, it was a bad idea. He walked to the door, watching his brother climb out of the front seat with the biggest smile on his face. He walked to the other side, opening the door as Sam watched his father climb out. John Winchester looked every bit as aggressive as Sam remembered, the stitches on the side of his head making Sam remember that had been the cut he had seen in the car.

John was laughing at something Dean had said, stopping when he saw Sam. Sam’s feet betrayed him, taking him walking towards his father. His entire mind was screaming at him, telling him that if he wanted to live he would run in the opposite direction. Dean was carrying the bags to the door, John watching as he disappeared into the house before he looked back to Sam.

‘Sammy.’

‘Sir.’ He stated, keeping it quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear. John smiled slightly, pulling his arm around Sam. He held still, awkwardly hugging his father.

‘You and me are going to have a nice little chat, understand?’ It was whispered, but there was no doubt in Sam’s mind that it meant he was going to be hurt. He bowed his head slightly, stepping away when Dean came back out. John instantly perked up, the two walking towards the house chatting, Sam watching after them. As long as Dean was safe, Sam didn’t care.

‘Dad, this is Jody. The Sheriff, and Sam’s boss.’ They shook hands, John turning slightly to Sam to let him know that they were going to discuss this later.

‘This is Gabriel, my housemate.’ Another handshake, although Sam felt a slight protectiveness flare up as he watched John touch Gabriel. If he saw that Sam had friends, it would only make things worse.

‘This is Castiel. Gabriel’s brother, and… my boyfriend.’ John stopped, looking between the two. Sam felt his body tense, ready to step in between John and Dean if he needed to. His father turned to look at Sam, and the youngest Winchester got it. John was blaming him, that he could deal with. That would mean John wouldn’t punish Dean, and that was good. So, Sam nodded. Dean didn’t notice, but Castiel and Gabriel did. John turned back, offering his hand to Castiel.

John was shown to Dean’s room, the one next to Sam’s. He had the tour of the entire house, Jody excusing herself back to work. It was getting late, it was already 5pm, but Sam didn’t want to have to think about the fact they were going to have to eat dinner.

‘Fancy a beer, Dad?’ Please, please don’t drink. Sam watched him, watched his father smirk. Staring right at Sam as he replied,

‘Yes thanks Dean.’ Sam was looking at the table, wondering how much it would hurt if he kept repeatedly banging his head against it. Wondered if anyone would stop him.

‘Dean, is it alright if I go outside with Sam for a bit? I want to talk about the accident…’ John played the part well, looking guilty. Dean handed him the beer, telling him it would be fine, even advising them to take a stroll to the park. John listened intently, smiling to his eldest son.

‘Do you have a lighter, son?’ Dean looked confused, but tugged one out of the kitchen drawer. John patted his shirt, popping the button to reveal the pack of cigarettes. Sam kept his face placid, willing his mind to melt as his heart threatened to burst. Castiel looked ready to interrupt, but Sam shook his head slightly. It was mind games, John was testing the loyalty of the two Novaks.

By the time they started walking, the sun was already setting. The walk to the park was quiet, the empty grass-space providing very little comfort for Sam, who knew his father was going to lash out at some point. He watched John take out a cigarette, lighting it and breathing in heavily.

‘Nice evening.’ He commented, watching the sun set. Sam stared out across the park, the empty landscape and the trees that hid them from the road.

‘It is, Sir.’ He stated, feeling his mind go completely. John turned to him slightly, amusement on his face.

‘You thought I’d die.’ Sam nodded, figuring lying would make it so much worse. John smiled, reaching up to cup Sam’s cheek. He held still, waiting for his father to do something. And he did. The hand moved to his neck, wrapping around the base of it, below the hoodie, and squeezing. Sam didn’t fight, there wasn’t any point. He just needed to stay still.

‘Let me make this clear, Sammy. You mean nothing to me, nothing to Dean. You ruined this family, and now you will have to make it up. Not only that, but I find that you turned your brother into a fag.’ The homophobic slur made Sam bite his lip, no point trying to defend Dean’s honour. Not yet, anyway. The hand around his neck tightened.

‘Yes Sir.’

‘How many do you deserve, Sammy?’ He’d hoped his father wouldn’t belt him. But when he looked up, those cold eyes staring back at him, he had no choice. Answer wrong, and it would get worse.

‘Twenty, Sir.’ John’s eyes twinkled with amusement, and Sam knew his mistake. Not enough, he hadn’t made the number high enough. John unbuckled his belt with one hand, keeping his grip tight.

‘Shirt off, Sammy. Thirty will do you nicely.’ His back had healed, but he still found himself listening. Hoodie and shirt removed, kneeling down into the dirt.

Dean. He wanted his brother, wanted his brother to love him. Didn’t want to be abandoned, didn’t want to be responsible for his mother’s death. He managed all thirty, shocking really, while his father stood there lazily, smoking. Only when Sam crumbled into the dirt, breathing heavily as his back ached, did he realise how screwed he was.

‘I will hurt them, all of them, if you don’t listen to me Sammy. My room, every morning at 3am, starting tomorrow. Understand?’ Sam nodded, fumbling for the shirt that went over his body, kneeling as his father took one last breath. The youngest Winchester hesitated for only a couple of seconds, lowering the shirt collar and biting his lip at the hiss of skin.

He could do this. Even if it meant this pain, he could keep his life here. He just needed to make sure Dean was safe, make sure his family was safe from John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry guys, but I promise Sam will get better!


	13. I deserve this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wants to stay, John disagrees. Gabriel gets angry

The week passed steadily. It didn’t take Sam long to figure out what his father wanted. Money. He had spent his insurance on his coma state, meaning he had very little money left. Now, whatever Sam was earning at the station, it went straight to his father. When John explained that that wasn’t enough, Sam picked up a job that very Sunday at the Roadhouse Bar, working with Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo.

He had worked Sunday, Monday-Wednesday afternoons, and the full day Thursday. Tips were the best part, and when he arrived in his father’s room on the Friday morning, he had $320 to give his father. He accepted them, counted through them, before looking up at Sam. He wasn’t allowed to wear the hoodie when he was in his father’s room, so his arms were bare. The self-inflicted cuts were red and angry, but the burns were hidden by the shirt. A faint line of bruises could be seen around his throat, but that was about it.

‘The funeral is today.’ John remarked, the window open as he smoked lazily. Sam stayed still, kneeling on the carpet by his feet. One hand holding the cigarette, the other stroking Sam’s hair gently.

‘Yes Sir.’ Sam didn’t know whether he was expected to have a good answer for that, opting for simple remarks.

‘We don’t have enough money. We were supposed to get out of here as soon as possible.’ Sam froze up, realising that the “we” in that sentence meant he was leaving with John. Sam stopped breathing, the life he had built for himself here… John was going to take it away.

‘I wanted to stay.’ He blurted, not regretting it even when the hand in his hair tightened.

‘No.’

‘I’m staying. I like it here.’ He was expecting to be thrown back, hitting the wall as John moved. His body weight pinned Sam down, the smell of smoke taking over everything as he was held against the floor.

‘I said no.’ John remarked. Sam didn’t care, he didn’t want to leave his brother. He attempted to wriggle free, pressing a knee up into his father’s groin. It worked, the man was shocked enough to let Sam go. He crawled towards the door, stopping when a body was back on his. This time, his arm was twisted painfully behind him, head pressed against the carpet. John’s body was flat on top of him, hips in line with Sam’s, lips inches from his ear.

‘Listen carefully. I know you remember our little… insurance. I won’t hesitate to show Dean, and Bobby and all your new friends. This life will be gone, either way. The easy, or the hard. Choose.’ Sam shuddered, attempting to buck out from under his father’s weight. He stopped when he felt something hard pressed against the small of his back, trying to stop bile rising in his throat.

‘Easy.’ He finally stated, the weight lifting off as he was rolled over. John sat back down, straddling the boy, and stared at the cigarette.

‘You know, you deserve this on your cock for what you just did to me.’ Sam held still in terror, not sure whether his father would actually do it or not. John watched him carefully, before lowering the cigarette into his collarbone. The smell was the worse thing, but he didn’t fight back, not anymore.

‘Say it.’ John demanded, voice ruff with… arousal? Sam tried not to think about it too much, telling himself that he would find a way to get out of leaving with John. Maybe he should just run away, that would be simpler.

‘I deserve this.’

‘Why?’ The repeated mantra was stuck in Sam’s throat, until the pressure around his neck appeared and he remembered it was a good idea to speak.

‘Because I killed my mom, and broke the family apart.’ John patted his cheek affectionately, before squeezing once more on the bruises at Sam’s throat.

‘I need more cash. We may have to go back to Plan B.’ They’d done that once before, when John had lost all their money in a gambling game. Sam had been the one to pay the price, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. It was enough to have him already crying, unable to stop tears spilling from his cheeks.

‘Enough. I’ll talk to them later, they’ll be at the funeral. Maybe Marcus would be a good bet.’ Sam shuddered, before his father stood, giving him a nudge with his boot as a show of dominance. Sam rose up slowly, body shaking as he bowed his head slightly.

‘You’re dismissed.’ He took the hint, leaving the room. His throat hurt, so he headed to the stairs for a glass of water. Ignoring the tears that spilled down his cheeks, he made it to the cabinet and pulled out a glass. Part of him could see why Max Miller had threatened his parent’s lives, the thought of killing John was nice. But he’d had his chance, and he hadn’t taken it.

If John went for Dean, that’s when he would take action. For now, he was stuck. John had blackmail over him, and he couldn’t tell his brother. He’d lose everything.

‘Kiddo?’ Sam turned, almost dropping the glass. Gabriel stood in the kitchen, dressed in polka-dot pyjamas, eyes instantly going to the bruises around his throat. Sam took a step back, pressing his body to the counter, watching the man opposite him.

‘Jesus, Sam. What did he do?’ Sam watched the Novak step forward, hand reaching out. He cowered away, hanging his head. Gabriel’s hand cupped his cheek, making him look at the short man. Unlike John, there was no malice in his eyes, just worry. Utter concern, especially when his other hand reached up and traced the bruises.

‘I’m going to kill him.’ Gabriel hissed under his breath, Sam flinching at the words.

‘Please don’t, it’s… it’s my fault. Gabriel, you can’t, I’ll lose everything, Dean will kick me out and John will…’ Gabriel hugged him. It put an end to his ranting, an act so simple yet Sam couldn’t quite believe Gabriel was doing it. After all, Sam was disgusted by himself, surely the others would be too.

‘Listen, if you haven’t told Dean by Sunday, I’m going to do it. No, don’t give me those Puppy-dog eyes. Dean loves you, Sam. He wouldn’t want you being hurt.’ Gabriel’s fingers ended at the new cigarette burn, distaste flicking across his expression. The hand on his cheek dropped, reaching for his, and Sam found himself standing in the kitchen at half-three in the morning, fingers entwined by a rather good-looking guy. The thought made his stomach twist, but he didn’t let go. Not yet.

‘He loves John.’ Sam stated, knowing it was true. Gabriel sighed, his thumb rubbing across Sam’s hand in a comforting gesture.

‘Trust me, Samshine, Dean won’t forgive John for this.’ Sam wasn’t sure, but he hoped the man was right. He didn’t think he could deal with the alternative.


	14. Protecting Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral. Some homophobic bitches. A stand-off between Sam and John.

Sam was dressed in a suit. He had gone with Gabriel in the Mazda, finding it enjoyable to sing along to the radio. Castiel was also in the car, sitting in the passenger seat of the car. They were following the Impala, Sam not happy that Dean was alone with John, but happier that Castiel was safe. He wasn’t sure what his father was planning, but he figured it was big.

Bobby met them there, also wearing a suit. John was quick to place a hand on Sam’s arm, leading him away from his brother and towards the group of John’s old hunting buddies. Marcus, the one that Sam disliked the most, wolf-whistled when Sam got close enough. He ignored the red that was creeping up from under the collar, following his father obediently.

‘Marcus.’

‘John.’ They hugged, clapping each other on the back, Marcus pulling back to stare at Sam. Yet another time the Winchester wished he was smaller, looking down at all these people made him feel like he was a bigger target.

‘I heard there was an accident.’ Marcus stated, not taking his eyes of Sam. John explained the car-crash, conveniently leaving out the part where Sam had been the one to drag John out of the lake. Marcus listened, looking amused when it got to the part where Sam had admitted not wanting John alive.

‘I would’ve shown him who’s boss.’ Marcus remarked, John clapping Sam on the back hard enough to hurt the belt-marks. He tensed, grimacing as the pain stuttered through his system. Marcus got the hint, laughing warmly.

The service was crap. It was afterwards, when they were all standing in the empty graveyard, that things started to go wrong. Dean, Gabriel, Castiel and Bobby had stayed away from Marcus and his buddies for the entire service. Sam had followed John, and if Dean found it odd, he didn’t say anything. Unfortunately, while standing in the graveyard trouble started.

Sam was with John, who was discussing the quickest way to make money. Sam was ignoring the conversation, knowing if he listened to the suggestions he’d probably have a panic attack. One of Marcus’ buddies, Richard, shouted out.

‘Oi, John, I didn’t know your boy was a FAG!’ Sam followed the gaze, noting how his brother was stepping back from evidently kissing Cas, the two of them staring at the group. Bobby was scowling, glaring at Richard with hatred.

‘Got himself a little fag boyfriend!’ That was Cas, and it made Sam mad. He didn’t say anything, waiting for John to defend his favourite son. Castiel looked close to tears, Bobby started shouting at Richard that he should mind his own business, that it was nobody’s business if Dean wanted to date a guy. Gabriel comforted his brother, until John spoke up.

‘I have to agree, but we’ll discuss it later.’ Dean’s face fell, and Sam fought the urge to punch John. He was hurting his brother.

‘Dad? You can’t be serious?’ Bobby was now glaring at John as well, one arm around Dean’s shoulders. Marcus started laughing, apparently, it was amusing.

‘Obviously he is, fag. We don’t accept your type here, freak.’ Dean tensed up, looking like he was getting ready to fight. Sam was just as bad, wanting to punch Marcus squarely in the face. The only thing stopping him was the fear that John would hurt him.

‘It’s a free country, man. I’m staying right here.’ Dean stated angrily, muscles tensing. Bobby looked positively livid, Castiel had come round to Dean’s side to hold his hand. Sam watched, knowing John was getting angrier by the second.

‘Dean, stop it. We’ll find you a nice woman…’ John started the conversation, but was cut off by Dean.

‘I don’t want anyone else but Cas, and if you have a problem with that, then you’re going to have to leave.’ Sam couldn’t believe it. His brother was choosing Castiel over John. His father looked just as shocked, before Marcus broke the awkward silence that had fallen.

‘Never mind, John. Don’t need a cocksucker for a son, anyway.’ Dean growled lowly, Sam feeling the same way.

‘Come on Sam, we’re leaving.’ John snapped, walking towards Marcus. Sam realised he’d managed to avoid getting in the argument until this point. He didn’t fancy being in it at all, he’d prefer to be chilling six-feet under. He took a steady step towards Dean, before his confidence started to falter. John still had the blackmail, he didn’t know if he could do this…

‘Sam, now.’ Boy, he looked angry. Sam was stuck in the middle ground, wanting to go to is brother, but not wanting his father to kill him. He took another step towards Dean, urging his feet to move away from his father. John looked angry, the vein on the side of his head sticking out as his anger grew.

‘Careful, boy. You’re about to make a mistake.’ Sam watched John pull his phone out, and the hold broke. Sam’s fear pushed through, his legs stopping in their tracks, looking to his dad.

‘Here, now.’

‘No. I told you, I want to stay with Dean.’ His voice sounded a lot less confident than he thought it would be, but it was good enough.

‘Look at that, your main source of income is walking away.’ Marcus was laughing, finding the entire situation amusing. Sam was closer to Dean than he was to John, figuring that would be safe enough.

‘Income?’ Dean snapped, looking angry. Oh, oh this really wasn’t good. Sam shook his head frantically, trying to stop his brother from asking. John looked amused, he wasn’t going to stop Marcus from blurting the truth.

‘Sure, your daddy lost his money gambling, sold out your brother’s body for a little bit of cash.’ Sam didn’t look at his brother, even when the sound of a dying bird was drawn from Dean’s lips. He was surprised, however, when Dean lunged at John. Bobby swore, as did Sam, both reaching for Dean. John was fighting back, even with a bleeding nose from the first punch, Sam trying to get between them.

Two gun-shots fired in the air, Marcus’s group scrambling away and off into the trees. John pulled back, Bobby hauling Dean away, Jody holding a shotgun. She hadn’t come to the funeral, so what she was doing here was beyond Sam’s understanding. She gave him a look, before she took out a set of cuffs. Sam realised what she was doing, what she had promised she would do. Keep Sam with her.

‘John Winchester, I’ve really been looking forward to this. Multiple counts of assault, illegal gambling, illegal drug usage, fraud and sexual assault. Anything to add?’ She snapped, another cop coming out. John just laughed, Sam watching as the cuffs were snapped around his wrists and he was hauled back to the Cop car. Jody had been gathering information on John for a while, Sam knew that, he just didn’t know that this was her end game.

‘You take him in, I’m needed here.’ The officer nodded, leading away his father, Sam watching as John made eye contact. Something told him this wasn’t the end.

Sam was led to the back of the Impala, watching Dean’s nose being tended to. Bobby stood with Gabriel and Cas, the three of them watching Jody clean up his nose. Once Dean was done, she turned to Sam.

‘You told me that you’d say something.’ Sam looked away awkwardly, playing with the hem of the bloodstained shirt he was wearing.

‘Sammy, what Marcus said…’ Dean trailed off, looking unsure. Sam didn’t want to lose his brother, but he figured it was about to happen.

‘Jody, you think you can stitch up a cut on my back?’

‘Right, all convening at the Novak/Winchester house.’


	15. Cas-sexual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A light chapter towards the end, I'm sorry it isn't the talk between Dean and Sam, but big things happening next chapter.

They were sat in the kitchen, Jody prepping a needle. Dean was holding Cas’s hand, and Sam knew he would have to talk to them eventually. He just didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why Dean wasn’t mad at him. Gabriel stood by his side, holding his hand and doing the soothing thing with his thumb. Sam wasn’t speaking, just staring at their conjoined hands. He had a feeling he would need to address this sooner or later.

‘Shirt off, Sam.’ He tugged the hoodie off first, ignoring Dean’s gasp. Bobby muttered something under his breath, before Dean spoke.

‘Hang on, why did I not know?’ He was glaring at Cas, and Sam felt guilt run through his system.

‘Don’t be mad at them, I told them not to tell you.’ He stated, pulling the shirt over his head. This time, Dean didn’t hide the swearwords. Sam figured he looked pretty dodgy, the belt-marks a permanent reminder on his back, a series of scars on his chest. He sat still, Jody stitching up the belt mark that had gone too deep, having caught the belt buckle.

‘Sammy…’ The group left, leaving just him and Dean in the room. Silence fell, Sam felt tears build up. Dean was already crying, taking Sam’s hands in his. Eventually, Sam looked up to meet emerald eyes, his brother looking confused and worried and heartbroken.

‘He told me I killed Mom.’ Sam muttered, trying to stop the crying. Dean didn’t, although his crying was silent as he pulled Sam in, running his fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his forehead.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Dean asked quietly, Sam holding his breath as he answered.

‘I didn’t want to ruin your new life, or your relationship with John.’ Hands cupped his cheeks, lifting his head up to his brother. Eyes bore into his, like he was trying to look at Sam’s soul. Sam didn’t mention the part where he was trying to keep Dean safe.

‘Listen to me, Sam Winchester. You are not responsible for what happened to Mom, and I don’t care about this new life, not if you’re in pain. Sammy, you’re my baby brother, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. I… I love you, kid.’ Sam let tears fall, letting his head rest against his brother’s shoulder as he sobbed. Dean held him, not saying anything as he continued to cry.

‘We’re going to talk about this properly, about what happened, but for now? We’re going to sit down, have a take away, and then I’m having a shower. Probably some hot Gay Sex.’ Sam laughed through the tears, grinning at his elder brother, the guy that had raised him when they were little.

‘Sounds good.’

‘What, the Gay Sex?’ Dean asked, looking concerned, but in a joking way.

‘No, Jerk. The takeaway.’

‘I don’t know, I’ve seen the way Gabriel looks at you. Bitch.’ He added the last bit, the smile contagious.

‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Jerk’ Sam remarked, watching his brother flip him off as he walked out of the kitchen, probably to get the others. Sam pulled the shirt back on, leaving the hoodie off. He didn’t need it on, not now that Dean had seen what John had done.

True to his word, Dean ordered takeaway. Bobby left, claiming he needed beers and a long nap, Dean waving him off. Jody hugged Sam, pressing a kiss to his forehead, having to go on tip-toes to do it. He chuckled, walking with her to the door.

‘Sam, I know you probably don’t want to think about it right now, but I’ll need a statement.’ Jody said it quietly, but Sam knew his brother was listening on the other side of the door.

‘I know. I’ll come and see you tomorrow.’ He promised, hugging her. Jody smiled, leaving the house and Sam shut the door behind her, walking back into the main room. Gabriel patted the couch next to him, Sam settling down onto it as his brother walked in with beer.

‘Want one?’ Sam accepted a bottle, figuring now was a great time to start drinking. Especially if his brother wanted the entire story. He wasn’t sure that he could do that, he figured his head would have other ideas.

‘Pizza will be here in five.’ Dean commented, curling up on top of Cas, who smiled softly. That was how the four of them stayed, apart from Sam standing to collect pizza, for the entire evening. Mostly, the conversation was about light topics, such as Dean’s realisation of his gayness. Sam wasn’t surprised that Cas had made the first move, nor was he surprised that Dean still said he was straight, apart from being Cas-sexual.

‘Cas-sexual isn’t a thing, Dean.’ Sam remarked, draining his fourth bottle of beer with a smirk. Gabriel laughed, keeping his head in Sam’s lap as they looked across to the couple. Cas was trying to hide his smile, Dean pouting ridiculously as Cas fed him the last slice of pizza.

‘Sure it is.’ Dean was on his seventh beer, probably why he was being more cocky and open than usual. Sam wasn’t as stressed about it, whether that was due to his own intoxication or the fact that he trusted his brother, he didn’t know.

‘Dean, you’re bisexual.’ Castiel provided, Sam and Gabriel nodding in agreement.

‘Sucks.’ Dean mumbled, looking pissed. Gabriel snorted, raising his hand.

‘I’m bisexual.’ Like Sam hadn’t figured that one out already, Gabriel flirted with anything with a pulse, he was surprised he wasn’t Pan.

‘I’m gay.’ Cas provided, stroking Dean’s hair softly. Dean smiled happily, before he looked to Sam. He blinked, realising they were waiting.

‘Pan.’ Sam commented, drumming his fingers along the side of the beer bottle. Dean made a surprised sound, but Cas shut him up quickly with his lips. Sam did not need to see this, neither did Gabriel, and the two proceeded to throw pillows at them until Dean eventually got off the couch, tugging Cas towards the stairs.

‘But Dean, we were supposed to be talking to Sam.’ Castiel remarked, not really protesting about being dragged. Sam happily waved them on, getting up, much to Gabriel’s protest. The kitchen was his next stop, more beer was needed. The happy buzz in his mind was making it less hard to think about what had happened.


	16. Run, Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Really sorry. But this way, John gets what he deserves.

Sam should have known that just because he had told Dean what had happened, that life wouldn’t get easier. Hell, he hadn’t even managed to explain. Sam stood in his room, trying to ignore the furniture that he’d smashed up, staring at the one thing that wasn’t broken. The laptop, the only thing he could rely on, had broken him. He stared at the screen, reading the report.

Marcus was dead. It was suspicious at best, and so Sam had done a little digging. Nothing like what he used to do, just enough to find a pattern. Not only was Marcus dead, but three other people John had done jobs for were also dead, ruled “suspicious circumstances”. Someone was clearing up the messes left behind, someone had done the impossible. They had found John’s pattern. Which meant they had access to the stuff that John had about Sam.

Logically, Sam should go straight to Jody and tell her. Or, better, go to his brother and tell him what he had done, and how he was pretty sure someone was killing these people to get at him and John. Instead, the youngest Winchester collected a list of all the clients he had worked for over the past three years. Of the thirty-seven customers, although some were repeats, he was shocked to find that only twenty-five of them were still alive. Suicides, hit and runs, drunk driving.

Not all of the cases had been fraud. Sam had helped some out of a tricky spot, clearing dangerous files. A couple were genuine works, cleaning up computers and installing protection on them. But whoever was killing them, was doing so efficiently. Theory would suggest that the killer, or killers, had to be on the client list. They had to know Sam and John. What they hoped to achieve was the question, killing Marcus was a dangerous step out into the open.

Marcus had paid for a transfer of money he earned from his drugs to a safe account. When John had lost all his money gambling, it was one of Marcus’s closest advisors that paid him out of that debt. William Ardon, one of the twenty-five still alive, and presumably pretty high-up on the kill list. It wasn’t hard to track him, and Sam pondered on whether or not to warn him. The guy technically hadn’t done anything wrong, well, he’d just taken what John had told him he could have.

Sam sunk down, allowing his legs to crumple under him as he stared at the mess of his room. He had options, he just wasn’t sure what the best one was. Deciding that he needed to know more, he grabbed his hoodie and wallet, heading out of his room. Leaving a note on the kitchen side for his brother, he headed towards the station.

Jody smiled when he walked in, which quickly disappeared when she took a look at his face. Sam figured he looked pretty crap, he could do with a shower and about three weeks-worth of rest. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get any of that when there was a killer on the loose. Worse, a killer that he was unsure of the motives for.

‘I need to speak to Dad.’ He barely ever called him that, but for the moment, John wasn’t the biggest threat. Jody looked surprised, staring at him.

‘Unless you have my statement, you don’t have enough to hold him on. Let me see him.’ Sam hated pushing Jody away, he honestly thought of her as a close friend, but if the people got close to Sam, then they could hurt any of them.

‘Fine. But I’m not happy with it.’ Jody stated, staring at him for a long time. Eventually, one of the Officers came through, telling Jody that John was in one of the rooms. Cameras were turned off, as were all recording devices. Jody looked to him, before giving a brief nod. He pretended not to hear her calling Dean as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

John looked vaguely surprised, before a look of amusement crossed his face. Sam thought that John probably knew more than he was letting on, and he hoped that he could exploit that. Taking the seat opposite, he looked to the one-way glass. No doubt, Jody was standing on the other side watching the entire exchange. Shoving the thought down, he looked back to his father.

‘Marcus is dead.’ Surprise flickered on his father’s face, but it wasn’t as much as Sam expected. He studied the complexion of the man in front, figuring out that John had been expecting Marcus dead, just not yet. Adrenaline, and fear, were evident. Whoever was coming, was coming for John. And Sam, potentially.

‘Who is it?’ He asked, for once meeting his father’s eye. His back itched, mind begged him to look away, but Sam could focus on nothing but protecting Dean. Even if Sam got thrown under the bus in the process. What were a few casualties, in the long war?

‘Took you long enough.’ Was all John said, and then his lips tightened. Sam knew he had given away too much, that his father wouldn’t want to share much again.

‘I need you to tell me. Whoever this is fits a criteria that would mean Dean comes under threat.’ He’d struck a nerve, John’s expression soured at the thought of his eldest coming under threat, before he leant forwards, placing a chained hand over Sam’s. The youngest stayed still, watching John trace the letters onto his hand carefully.

**R.U.N.N.O.W.W.I.N.C.H.E.S.T.E.R.**

Sam’s expression dropped, yanking his hand away from his father. Not one of his clients. One of John’s clients, one that had taken all the money from them. The poker game had been intense, Sam seated by his father’s feet, chained to the chair. He’d watched the scene, watched the man opposite as he had won. The look of pure satisfaction on the man’s face as he stood, scooping up the money that had originally been for Sam’s college education. The man, a broad smile on his face, had looked at John.

‘Run now, Winchester. If I see you, I’ll kill you. And your beloved pet.’ He looked down to Sam, before his father had unchained him and they had done exactly as he said, ran.

Sam stared at his father, begging him to be joking. When his expression didn’t change, Sam realised he was screwed. Literally, utterly screwed. His father was as well, no prison was going to keep him safe. In fact, a prison was going to be the end of him.

‘If I get you out, can you help me?’ Sam couldn’t believe he was offering that, offering something that he didn’t want. But who was the bigger threat, his predictable father, or the man that ruined their lives? John cocked his head, smiling.

‘If you get me out, I’m putting a bullet through my skull.’ Well, that was tempting. No, Sam reminded himself, it was his fault that they had ended up here. John had done what he thought was right for killing his wife, Sam knew that.

Maybe Sam could run. Outrun the man following. Or would it end, once John was dead? Unlikely, he thought. He left the room, ignoring his father. Jody gave him a look, but Sam shook his head. He couldn’t explain this, couldn’t explain what was wrong.

‘I’ll do the statement on Monday. I need… time.’ He finished, knowing they had enough evidence to hold him for now. Sam walked home, scuffing his feet as he thought about what he was going to do. Unlocking the door to the house, he walked through to the kitchen. He was so screwed.

‘Sammy! Glad you’re back, your friend is here!’ Sam turned, looking at his brother steadily. Dean was smiling slightly, and he followed him through to the living room, staring at the man sitting on the sofa. Gabriel and Castiel were on the long couch, looking confused when Sam startled.

‘Dean, take Gabe and Cas to Jody’s. Now.’ The man smirked, resting his hand over the jacket hem, no doubt where a gun was waiting.

‘Sammy?’ Dean was staring between them, evidently realising this man was not a friend. The man stood, pulling the gun out in one smooth motion, pointing it at Dean.

‘Sit down, Winchester.’ Dean did so, sinking onto the seat next to Cas and Gabe, the three of them looking terrified. Sam stood still, staring at Crowley with a sense of utter despair.

‘I thought you’d go for John first.’ Sam helpfully stated, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. No doubt there were more men waiting for orders, Crowley didn’t go anywhere alone.

‘I figured it had been a while since I’d seen your handsome face. I bought you a present.’ He whistled, and the back door opened. William Ardon was dragged in, looking rather beaten up. Sam realised how majorly screwed everyone was, especially when Crowley cocked the gun.

‘Dead or alive, pet?’ Sam looked to William, figuring either way he’d end up the same way.

‘Alive.’ Crowley shrugged, shooting the thigh. The silencer made it so the gunshot wasn’t heard, but the man crying out in pain did little to ease the issue. Sam, taking a steady breath, cleared his head. To beat a high-ranking sociopath, you had to be able to think like one.

‘Crowley, leave them alone. Dean has nothing to do with this.’ Protect Dean. Always, if Dean is safe, then Sam is happy. Crowley smirked, turning the gun in the direction of the couch. Sam stepped between the two of them, hearing his brother squawk in protest.

‘Dean is John’s son, no? Does that not make him involved?’ But Dean was off the table, always had been. Sam took a steady step forwards, telling himself that this wouldn’t matter, that if he got shot, at least Dean would be okay.

‘I won’t let you hurt him.’ He adamantly stated, and Crowley smiled, perching on the edge of the couch. William was bleeding out steadily, his face pleading with Sam to do something. But Sam wasn’t good at this stuff, he was never in charge.

‘I killed Marcus for you. Don’t you see, he offended your brother, and now he’s dead. Surely I should get a thank-you.’ He remarked, lips twitching into a smirk. Sam caught sight of something outside the window, his eyes widening slightly, before he looked back to Crowley.

‘I think you’ve upset someone.’ Sam stated, watching as the door opened. Crowley turned the gun to the intruder, lowering it when John walked in. Sam smiled, if John was here, then Jody knew. And Jody wouldn’t let Dean or Cas of Gabe get hurt, which was good. John surveyed the scene, taking in the three terrified people on the couch, then the man bleeding out on the floor, then his eyes slid back to Sam. He walked slowly, his eyes conveying the message that he couldn’t say aloud without giving the game away.

‘Now Crowley, how about we talk about this civilly. Sam, scotch. And a cigarette.’ Sam obeyed, moving to the kitchen and searching not only for the scotch, but a weapon. No guns in the house, but there was a kitchen-knife that would work. Tucking it under the shirt, he returned with the scotch and cigarettes. The three on the couch were not under much threat at the moment, John and Crowley were sitting on chairs opposite each other, that was the real threat.

Jody would be here soon, she would have a plan better than the one that Sam had. Trusting John to be a dick wasn’t an easy thing, Sam thought, as he poured two glasses of scotch, handing a cigarette to his father. William had gone pale, eyes barely focusing anymore. Sam wouldn’t risk trying to help him, he’d probably have a bullet put in his head.

‘Sit.’ John stated, looking to Sam before his gaze slid back. Trying to supress the smile that threatened to form, Sam sunk down slowly to his knees next to his father, John reaching for his hair out of instinct. Being so predictable, Sam felt the knife digging into his back, but he said nothing.

‘Let’s talk.’


	17. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm sorry.

Sam Winchester sat quietly, allowing his father to run fingers through his hair. The smell of smoke was heavy, thickening the air that Sam so desperately needed. Keeping his mind clear, he focused back on the talking, words floating around about murder, poker and fraud. He wished he had his laptop, there was a certain safety about having it in front of him that Sam couldn’t replicate.

‘No, John. The difference between us it that I am a high-end business man. You use your son as a pet, getting him to do your dirty work. Fraud, prostitution… I’m pretty sure there isn’t anything you wouldn’t make him do.’ Crowley remarked, thumbing the edge of the glass. His gaze drifted down to Sam, who furrowed his brows slightly at the insinuation.

‘And what exactly is wrong with a man using the assets he has?’ John stated lazily, blowing more smoke down in Sam’s direction. Trying not to gag, he risked a look to the window. As of yet, nothing, but he trusted Jody to have a plan. Trusted her to get his brother and the Novaks out of this, even if she couldn’t save him. He probably deserved that.

‘I’ve done a lot of bad things, Winchester, but even I don’t sell out family.’ Crowley quipped. A slight moan drew Sam’s attention to William, who was probably seconds away from dying. John didn’t look bothered, but Sam looked up at Crowley. His father may be an utter-madman, but Crowley was logistical. He had strategy, and was a man of word.

‘I asked for him alive.’ Sam spoke, before a boot hit the back of his neck and he crumpled forward. Tasting carpet, he heard the click of the gun that Crowley was pointing at John, who had been the one to shove him. Gesturing to the man at the door, the guy walked forwards, scooping William up and walking out. Sam didn’t quite understand why Jody didn’t have the house surrounded, but he knew she wouldn’t let him down.

It was a tense stalemate, John wanting to hit him, Crowley keeping the gun firmly pointed at his father. Sam was worried that the knife was going to be revealed if he wasn’t careful, he thought his father had more common sense than to push him towards the man he hated.

‘I heard you almost died.’ Crowley stated, and John settled down. Thankful, Sam rolled back onto his heels, then dropped to his knees of the carpet. John looked pleased, staring at the cigarette that was slowly getting closer to the end. Sam didn’t react, kept his eyes plastered on the gun Crowley was holding.

‘What can I say, death didn’t suit me.’ John chuckled with the words, and bile threatened to rise in Sam’s stomach. Why he hadn’t had the common sense to protect his brother by leaving his father to die, he had no idea.

‘Not what I heard. Rumour is that a certain Moose dragged you out of a sinking car, desperate to save your life.’ The cold eyes turned to Sam, who was still wondering about the nickname. Sure, Moose seemed a little odd, but it wasn’t the worse thing that he could be called. Gabriel called him a similar thing.

The silence was broken by the hissing sound of John pressing the cigarette into the side of Sam’s neck, who stayed perfectly still even when his brother made a strangled sound. Looking up to Crowley with his best pleading eyes, the businessman gave the smallest smile.

‘Dead, or alive?’ He asked the room, and everyone looked confused. John turned to Dean, presuming they were talking about the three couch-dwellers. Sam paused, knowing either way John would get shot, so surely alive was the best option? But if he was alive, then he could come back, and cause the issue again.

‘Dead.’ His voice came out thick, and Crowley grinned. Before John could even think to stop him, a bullet was between his eyes, body rocking back. A choked sob from presumably his brother sounded out, and Sam shuffled forwards slightly, Crowley sitting in the chair unmoving. The knife felt heavy against his back, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he had the strength to actually hurt someone.

‘Was that for you, or for your brother?’ Crowley inquired, looking amused. Sam didn’t answer verbally, although his silence was conformation. Sam glanced to the window, then back to the man sitting in the chair.

‘Checkmate.’ Sam stated, standing up slowly, listening to the sound of the door breaking in. Crowley looked genuinely surprised, like he hadn’t expected that to happen. People moved into the room, shouting at Crowley to drop the gun, at everyone to get down. The businessman turned, looking Sam dead in the eye, raising the gun.

When Sam had been little, his father had always told him that a cornered man was the most dangerous thing on earth. That, if he ever found himself in such a situation, he should use all the available tools to fight. Sam Winchester had never needed to fight, he was always the one that hid behind the computer, watching his father bully his way through life. In the moments where John actually bothered to teach him, the lessons were always unfair. A knife fight with Sam weapon-less. A shooting match that, for every shot missed, ended in a beating. John Winchester spent his life a cornered man, and Sam had watched him, learnt everything he could.

So, when Crowley rose the gun and pointed at his brother, he did two things. The first, and most important, of the two things was to get in the way of the bullet. None of the police had actually loaded their weapons, because Crowley MacLeod was a man that nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of. Sam had already known this, so, before he even knew the man was going to be at the house, he had created a fail-safe. All information, every piece of dirt that he had, would automatically send to Jody’s Police Department should Sam not hit the off switch. That was why he could jump in front of the bullet, knowing that Crowley would go down.

The second thing he did was to throw the knife. The approximated time it would take for the men to load their guns was too long, Crowley could have a second shot loaded, and therefore hit Dean regardless of Sam throwing himself in the path. The knife was not quick enough to stop the first bullet, considering Crowley’s reflex time, and he already knew he was going to shoot Dean. Once it was fired, Sam would be too late. The bullet travelled at around 1,700mph, on average, so the two actions occurred almost simultaneously.

Sam leaped, throwing the knife and watching it hit the hand that had just pressed down on the trigger. Crowley was then shot, in the thigh, and dropped down. Sam grinned victoriously, before looking to the pooling blood on his shirt. This was the last thing he had ever thought about, the height difference and position to take the bullet. He’d spent hours researching, and in that moment, he was glad. Slumping down to the floor, Jody screaming and Dean reaching out for him, Sam Winchester realised that he was safe. That, with John dead and his failsafe activated, Dean was safe.

With that knowledge, Sam allowed his face to find the carpet, smiling softly as he shut his eyes.


	18. Ice-cream, Candyfloss and Fairgrounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam takes a while to sort his life out.

_Sam trotted behind his big brother, trying to match his paces. He wasn’t quite sure how Dean did it, all graceful strides and a charismatic smile. Jeans low around his hips, leather jacket snugly on. Sam admired how his brother could walk into any building and act like he owned it. At seventeen, they were supposed to be angry at each other. Any normal teen would hate his older brother, but at thirteen, Sam could think of nothing he loved more._

_Sam didn’t understand why his brother got all the charms, good looks and ability to talk to people. Sam was left with gangly limbs that left him feeling like a baby giraffe, and a habit of messing up talking to people. Dad always judged him for it, but Dean was quick to get in between. Sam smiled up at his brother as they walked into the ice-cream parlour, Sam having been promised a large scoop of chocolate._

_‘Sammy, only one scoop.’ Dean scolded softly as they got to the counter. The girl that was serving them blushed heavily, evidently impressed by Dean’s parenting._

_‘De, please?’ He asked, knowing that Dean always had a soft spot for his nickname. Dean nodded to the girl, who put two big scoops in. Sam smiled, knowing he could wear his brother down._

_‘There you go, little brother.’ He stated, smiling as he ruffled Sam’s hair. He pretended to be annoyed, what thirteen year old would like being treated like a kid? But he always enjoyed his brother’s affections. The girl was now a permanent shade of red, and gave them the ice-cream for the price of one scoop. Dean gave an award-winning smile, and Sam stomped on his foot._

_‘Ow, what was that for, bitch?’ He growled as they left the shop. Sam smirked, tucking into the chocolate with a smile on his face._

_‘Flirting with everything with a pulse, Jerk.’ Dean snorted, rolling his eyes affectionately._

_**_

_‘Why?’ Sam muttered, not looking up. Dean sighed, running his hand through his hair. Sam knew his brother hated it when he didn’t get angry, hated how he moped and got sad. But he couldn’t find it in him to be upset, he understood. Dean was nineteen, why would he want to stay with Sam? A bratty fifteen-year-old who still hadn’t filled out properly?_

_‘Sam… You know you can come and see me all the time. And it isn’t like I’m going somewhere completely new, Uncle Bobby will be there.’ Sam didn’t say anything, watching as Dean finished packing his case. He was taking the Impala, the car promised to him as a kid. Watching his brother finish up, gripping the case and carrying it down the stairs of the current hired-house, Sam stared ahead numbly._

_Dad stood beside him, not looking overly impressed with the current situation. He wasn’t going to stop his favourite son walking out of the door, not even if it hurt him. Dean was the biggest source of income they had, Sam wasn’t sure how they were going to cope without him. Hell, he didn’t think he could cope without him. They were close, closer than any other siblings. Sam watched him load the car, then turn to hug dad. Dean did so, before he turned to Sam._

_Silence. Utter, complete, silence. Sam waited, searching his brother for any sign of regret, of guilt. There was nothing, only joy. He knew Dean wanted to leave, wanted to become a mechanic and have a life and a girl and a nice house. But Sam was too young to leave yet, he had to stay with Dad for at least three more years._

_‘See you around, Bitch.’ Dean stated, and although his face was impassive, the words were thick. Sam smiled, pulling his brother in for a hug and ignoring the fact that he was now taller than his brother._

_‘Yeah, you too, Jerk.’ He mumbled, hoping his brother was serious about being able to come and visit._

_**_

_Freezing water, pouring in. Lungs, trying to get air. John, bloodstained._

**_‘Sammy, wake up’_ **

_‘Killed your Mom.’ John remarked, stubbing the cigarette into skin. Sam flinched, staring at the ratty motel room. He couldn’t quite remember when they’d got here, and he could of sworn his clothes had been damp. Sam wobbled to his feet, looking around. He checked his phone, staring at the date. Funny, he could have sworn he was somewhere else on this date. Had the job with Steve gone well?_

_No, something… Sam froze. He couldn’t quite remember where he was, or why he was here. He thought… the lake. There had definitely been a lake! And water, and coldness! He shouldn’t be here, he didn’t belong here!_

**_‘Sammy, please.’_ **

_**_

_‘Hey Sam, how about the fair tonight?’ Sam turned his head, swinging his feet lazily. Big brother was sitting on the edge of the motel bed, looking after him while Dad went to see some friends. He didn’t really like the room, but he liked Dean, and Dean took good care of him. Always, no matter what. He nodded happily, wondering what dinner was going to be. Probably mac n’ cheese. Sam wouldn’t argue, he loved Dean._

_‘Come on kid, tie your shoes.’ Sam did as told, putting on his hand-me-downs and smiling up toothily at his brother, then shutting his mouth quickly when he remembered he was missing some teeth. Dean found it funny, telling him he’d eventually grow up enough and have his big teeth come in. He hoped so._

_‘Done it.’ Sam said proudly, hopping down off the bed and hesitantly waiting. Sometimes, Dean said he was getting too big to hold his hand. Sam didn’t think so, but then again, he wanted to be an adult. Dean grinned, the twelve-year-old offering out his hand. Sam beamed, wrapping his chubby fingers around his big brother’s._

_It was dark, but the funfair was lit up bright. Sam tried to stuff candyfloss in his face, but his brother kept stealing it, and Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him no._

**_‘You need to wake up, Sammy.’_ **

_‘What?’ Sam asked, turning to look up at his brother. Dean looked just as confused, staring down at him._

_‘I didn’t say anything, Sammy.’ Sam shrugged, offering candyfloss to diffuse the tension. It was weird, Sam thought, staring up at his brother. He could have sworn he wasn’t supposed to be here, he could have sworn his brother wasn’t little. He could have sworn he wasn’t little._

_‘De? I don’t feel good.’ Dean looked down, but his face was shifting. It was blurry, shifting between the young face and an older man, but with the same green eyes. Sam rubbed his temple, ignoring the building headache. He wanted to be with his brother, but it felt like… like there was something in the way._

**_‘Moose, hey? Wakey wakey.’_ **

_**_

_The kitchen was well-stocked with food, but Sam wasn’t really sure he wanted that much to eat. His head ached, he’d woken funny, like he’d had an entire night of bad dreams. It felt weird, like his head was somewhere else entirely. He disregarded it, opening the fridge to find fruit. It made him laugh, there were some orange fruit-shoots in there that had Gabriel’s name on._

_He bit into an apple, taking out a pomegranate and heading to the knife drawer. Reaching for it, he looked down to his bare arms, admiring the pale, unblemished skin. The headache returned, and Sam quickly turned his attention back to the fruit in his hand. Cutting into it, he scooped out the soft insides._

_‘Morning, Moose.’ Gabriel remarked, heading into the kitchen wearing fluffy slippers, a Pokka-dot shirt, and bumble-bee leggings. Sam wasn’t surprised, Gabriel usually wore stuff like this, except he expected bees to be more of Cas’s thing._

_‘Sammich? You good?’ Sam looked down at him, blinking. He must have looked wrong, the leggings weren’t bumble bees, just odd yellow circles. He smiled at Gabriel, taking another bite of Pomegranate. Castiel walked in, dressed in Dean’s clothes, neck covered in bruises. It was hardly surprising, maybe that explained the headache. Them screwing each other too hard._

_‘Morning, Sammy.’ Dean said, walking in. He was shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hand, but not yet putting it on. He looked happy, really happy. A bright smile on his face, Sam watched him walk across and pat his shoulder._

_‘So, Sam, do you fancy going out tonight? Just me and you?’ Gabriel asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. Sam stared at him, shocked. Sure, Gabriel was exactly his type, but didn’t his dad always say… wait, who? His dad. John. And when would Gabriel actually ask him out? And since when did Gabriel call him Sam? His arms… they weren’t right!_

_‘Where am I?’ He snapped, trying to get out of the kitchen. His hands gripped tighter on the knife, watching his brother’s face morph into something horrifying, like his father._

_‘Weren’t ever worth the effort, Sammy. Should’ve left you to die in that fire, Sammy.’ Sam stared at his brother, the guy he loved, and froze. John had told him it, told him that it was his fault. But… but maybe…_

**_‘You need to calm down, Sammy. Breathe.’_ **

_His heart rate was speeding up, his chest felt like it was closing up. He didn’t want to lose the last of his family! He didn’t have anyone else left. His shoulder was burning, it felt like… like he’d been shot. He tore at the shirt, stared at the blood forming from the hole. He’d been shot. When had he been shot?_

_‘I’m sorry, kiddo, but you really need to wake up.’ Gabriel said, looking sad. Sam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but his brother looked so mad at him. Sam would do anything for his brother, anything, even take a bullet. A bullet._

_**_

_Sam stared at them, at Crowley, at the muzzle of the gun. He jumped, throwing the knife. He watched the muscles in the suited-man’s arm tensing around the trigger. Sam watched the gun fire, watched the knife hit his arm. Felt the satisfaction. Heard the gunshots that took Crowley down. Heard Jody. Heard Dean. The world started to swim, and Sam felt his knees buckle. The sweet-smell of candyfloss, of chocolate ice-cream, memories of tying shoes and hugs and insults. Then, finally, an ice-cold water rushing through his mind, and Sam couldn’t BREATHE! Trying so hard, kicking, and then, thankfully, nothing._

Then, annoyingly, he woke up.


	19. Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up, and people come to see him

When Sam’s eyes opened, the first thing he was greeted with was a Doctor leaning over him, injecting something into his arm. Hardly surprising, considering the fact that his heart-rate was sky-high, and he’d been restrained to the bed. Nice. The throbbing in his shoulder was a helpful reminder of what had happened, a grounding factor to this issue. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to ask, but his eyes were fighting to stay open at the moment, and he had an oxygen mask strapped over his face, so his output was limited.

‘Mr Winchester, glad to see you’re with us.’ The Doctor stated, stepping back to allow a nurse in. She wrote down his vitals, Sam keeping an eye on her as she worked. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, it was that he didn’t trust anyone. Maybe Jody. She’d lived up to expectations. Dean… well, he didn’t know really. His life mission to protect Dean from the monster their father became was over, what would he do now? Leave?

‘Don’t try anything to strenuous, I’m going to ask a couple of questions, then we’ll allow visitors in, okay? And trust me, you have a lot!’ She said it with cheer, reaching to the oxygen mask gently. Sam felt the slight burn of his lungs when it was taken away, but she promised to keep it safe, so.

‘Pain, on a scale of 1-10?’ He thought about it, deciding it was, for him, a steady five.

‘Fi…Five.’ He croaked, immediately wishing those nice ice-chips on the side could hurry up and get in his throat. She wrote it down, but he noted that she put an eight by the side. Huh.

‘Do you remember what happened, Sam?’ First name basis. He nodded slowly, not really wanting to think too hard about it, but also needing to know…

‘Good. That’s all the questions I have, I’ll just check your pupil reflexes, and then I’ll send them in.’ The light hurt, but his eyes responded normally, and she reached for the ice chips. He thanked her, taking two before she replaced the oxygen-mask, and scurried out of the room. Alone, he looked around. He was alone, not on a ward, so he was probably pretty close to the line when he’d calculated a bullets trajectory. His body was in one of those stupid gowns, his arms bare, and a plethora of scars on show. Unfortunate.

A crappy padded thing was stuck to his neck over the latest cigarette burn, he couldn’t even feel it, and thanked the bullet-wound for that. Shifting his shoulder slightly, pain flared through. It seemed to be a clean-through shot, he’d only been about half a centimetre of where he’d wanted it to hit. Focusing on the nerd-half of his brain, he thought about the last thing he’d seen. Crowley was shot twice, one to the dominant shoulder, the other to the chest. Unlikely he’d live from those.

‘Sam!’ Dean practically skidded into the room, racing to his side. Sam turned his head, staring at his brother and checking for any injuries. He was glad he’d got home in time, it was a good thing that Dean hadn’t been hurt. Satisfied that Dean wasn’t hurt, he relaxed again, lips tugging into a smile. A hand took his, squeezing softly.

‘What were you thinking!’ Dean asked, voice loud and angry, and Sam was tempted to answer. He looked around the room, surprised by the amount of visitors. Gabriel and Cas sat in the corner, although they both smiled when his eyes met theirs. Jody stood in the doorway, and Bobby was close to the end of the bed. Sam looked back to his brother, green eyes glaring at him. His hand that wasn’t occupied reached for the oxygen mask, lifting it off gently. His lungs protested mildly, but he didn’t mind that much.

‘Nice to see you too, Dean.’ He croaked, but it was done with sarcasm, and his brother grinned. It then turned angry again, and his non-bad shoulder got hit.

‘Bitch.’

‘Jerk.’ He snapped back, smiling softly as he settled back, thankful that he’d taken the bullet. Dean was nudged out of the way by Bobby, who hugged him, and then finally Jody stepped forwards. She shut the door behind her, the group looking wary as she approached the bed.

‘How long had you planned that for?’

‘I always had a back-up. The information was always there. The bullet was a little bit harder, I had to calculate Dean’s size against mine and the speed of the bullet to estimate where abouts it would hit, but I was only half a centimetre off, so. As for the knife, that bit took slightly longer to plan.’ Sam admitted, shuffling slightly as he looked at the Sheriff. She looked mildly impressed, before continuing,

‘Mr MacLeod didn’t make it, but thanks to your information, the officers won’t get prosecuted for taking the shot. William made it.’ He tensed, his heart monitor spiking as he tried to supress the shudder. Sure, he didn’t want him dead, but he also didn’t like him alive.

‘Can I see him?’ He asked, cocking his head slightly. She looked surprised, before her gaze flicked to the others.

‘I want to know who he is, first.’ Interesting, the Cop usually listened to Sam regardless. He shrugged, turning away from her. Not a story he wanted to tell, he didn’t want to see him that badly.

‘We thought you were gone, Sam. Your heart stopped twice, the doctors said you shouldn’t have made it. Practically condemned you. Then you had this massive panic and got sedated.’ Jody stated, her voice suggesting she was trying to get a response out of Sam.

‘I was stuck in some memories. But they weren’t accurate, so I woke up.’ Sam watched as the door opened, a nurse coming in to measure blood pressure and check he was still alive. He watched her quietly, thinking back to the memories he’d seen. His shoulder was starting to hurt now, and his head wanted to hit the pillow, but Jody was talking again and he thought he should at least try and listen.

‘…so, once you’re better, the State want an IQ test done.’ He wasn’t sure what the beginning of the sentence had been, but that bit wasn’t necessary. He already had one of those.

‘162.’ He muttered, hearing Jody gasp, as did the others. Sure, it was high, but it wasn’t the deciding factor on someone’s abilities. He just did some things that other people couldn’t.

‘That’s pretty high, Sam.’ Jody commented, and Sam wondered why they hadn’t noticed. He didn’t really bother to hide it, he never had.

‘Thanks.’ He slurred, before his eyes shut and he allowed the pain to take over.


	20. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, this is the final chapter of the main story, but I will be adding an epilogue. Please enjoy!

Sam stood, ready to leave the hospital, yet in someone else’s room. Dean would be worried, but it didn’t matter. Closure, that was what Sam needed, and what he was getting. He stared at the man in the hospital bed, who looked right back at him, a calm silence between the two. Because of him, William Ardon would live. The man in the bed looked guilty, like he knew that Sam was the entire reason for him still being alive. Never one to be smug, Sam stood silently, assessing the man.

William had technically done very little wrong. John had been the one to make the offer of Sam, and William had paid for it. Pushing down thoughts of a crappy motel room, Sam on his knees in front of him, tears spilling freely down his face and the salty taste left in his mouth, Sam just stared. Most people would be angry, no, would be mad. But Sam wasn’t mad, he was just tired. Tired of being afraid of everything, tired of not living his life. He’d survived a bullet, and was prepared to do a lot more to help people now that he had escaped death.

‘Why did you save me?’ William asked, his brown eyes focused on Sam. Truth be told, the youngest Winchester could admit that he had considered allowing Crowley to kill him. But that would make him a bigger murderer, and Sam wasn’t entirely sure he could live like that. With Crowley dead, and John dead, and William still alive… Balance, in an odd way.

‘Because you didn’t deserve death.’ Sam commented, staring down at the man. William rose an eyebrow, like he too was thinking of the time that Sam Winchester had been begging for him to stop, knees sore from carpet. In that moment, a weird understanding passed between them.

‘I’ll hand myself in.’ William said, but it was more of an offering. Sam shrugged, it didn’t really matter either way. He didn’t exactly care what William did, as long as he stayed away from him. Sam turned, not surprised to find Jody standing in the doorway watching him. He walked to her, smiling slightly as she sighed.

‘Your brother is waiting for you, Sam.’ He was still slightly surprised that Dean was still accepting him after all that had happened, but miracles did happen, he supposed. The Impala was in the parking lot, and Sam walked up to it with little hesitation. Dean was smiling at him, like nothing had ever happened, and the drive home was made in silence.

The house had been cleaned entirely, the trio of housemates following Sam cautiously as he walked up the stairs, like he wouldn’t manage by himself. His room had been cleaned, the mess of furniture gone and his room complete. His laptop sat on top of the bed, and a warmth spread across him. He still had his laptop, that was good news. Dean was still in the doorway, looking like he wanted to speak, but not offering any words.

The kitchen had been cleaned, the knife that Sam had used to cut Crowley was gone. Opening the fridge, Sam blinked when he saw a pomegranate, confusion spreading across his face as he remembered the weird dream he’d had in the hospital. He pulled it out of the fridge, grabbing a knife and then a spoon. He turned when he heard Gabe and Cas, both in the main room, playing Mario Karts. That was more realistic, he thought, smiling as he watched the two shout and swear at the screen.

‘You good, Sammy?’ Dean asked, walking into the kitchen to stand beside him. Sam looked across, remembering how much planning had gone into saving Dean from everything that went bump in the night. Saving his brother from John, who was now no longer a threat. Maybe this was Sam’s reward, having his brother by his side. Safe. Sam nodded, smiling up at his big brother.

‘Better than ever.’ He stated, and Dean looked relieved. He would have laughed, but it seemed inappropriate, his brother was just happy to have him here.

‘You know, we’re going to have to talk. Eventually.’ Dean added the last bit on, and Sam finished scooping out his pomegranate and chucked it away, licking the spoon clean. Watching as Cas got hit by a red shell, swearing colourfully as Gabriel grinned, both of them heading towards the kitchen.

‘Chick-flic moments, Dean?’ He asked, looking amused as Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist. Gabriel pouted, looking ridiculous in a Pug t-shirt and striped leggings. He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, who snorted and pulled the smallest Novak in against his side. Gabe purred appreciatively like a cat, and the group laughed.

‘Down to Ellen’s tonight?’ Dean asked, and the three nodded back at him. Sam watched the couple walk up the stairs, before Gabriel grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him to the couch, setting up a new game.

This was what Sam deserved.


	21. The good and the bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, the epilogue wanted. I left it open at the end to add a short story on at the end, if wanted. Enjoy! :)

Today was one of those days. The days where Sam struggled to get out of bed. The days when it made it hard to stick to the no sharp object rule. His head spun slightly as he forced his limbs into cooperating, but even then, the movement was sluggish. Considering calling his brother, Sam reached for jeans, then a shirt. He left the hoodie off, although his hand slipped under the neckline of the shirt and reached for the bullet wound. It was healed, but the mark remained, the scar a reminder that he had killed his own father.

He ran fingers through his hair, looking at his appearance in the mirror and sighing. Dark bags under his eyes, hair messy, face pale. All signs of the lack of sleep. Recovery wasn’t easy, but today was just a harder day than most. One year since his father died. One year since Sam stepped in front of a bullet meant for his big brother.

It was also six months since Sam had started working again. Everyone appeared to be more shocked by his brain than he was, honestly, the stuff they were asking him to do wasn’t complicated. Sam pulled shoes on, deciding that a walk was in order. It took effort to go out on a bad day, but Sam reminded himself that he had faced much worse than this. His mind may be a threat, but it wasn’t the biggest out there.

Dean and Castiel would still be in bed, so he presumed Gabriel would be as well. He made it to the door, taking a breath as he opened it, cool air hitting him. The walk lasted longer than he expected, maybe because Sam was away with the fairies, his mind spitting out things that he had to keep down.

He knew, deep down, that he didn’t have to be afraid of a relapse. It wasn’t like his brother hadn’t seen them before, Sam waking up screaming and clawing at his skin until it broke under his fingers. Hell, Dean had been told more than once that Sam should probably have gone into a Ward for a while, to try and figure things out. Dean had left the decision to Sam, who couldn’t bare being taken away from his laptop, so declined.

It was just, he was almost a hundred days clean. That was a big milestone, one he was going to reach. He sat down on the bench, looking out across the park that he’d ended up in, watching a girl feed the ducks. Sam reminded himself that, even when he wasn’t thinking, his mind always protected him. He’d picked the park where John had taken him, as if to remind him that he had been in worse situations. The darkness in his mind receded, and Sam smiled victoriously.

Three days until his milestone, and he planned on celebrating it. After all, he had every reason to celebrate it. Just like he had every reason to continue his walk, buying a bunch of flowers as he went. His feet ached slightly, he’d been walking for around three hours, but it didn’t stop him from heading to the graveyard. He was unsurprised that John’s grave was empty, not many mourned him, not even Dean. They hadn’t attended the funeral, called it a principal. If they ever knew that Sam had been the one to cover the costs of the entire thing, well, they wouldn’t be happy.

Dean had given up asking what happened. Occasionally, Sam would give him little titbits of information. Not because he was trying to be awkward, but he did find it hard to speak about what had happened. The belt-marks were self-explanatory, as were the burns, but when it came to the work John had made him do, his mind always faltered. Sam had told Dean why sometimes he was unsure about sitting at the table. He hadn’t told him about being sold out to William, for fear of what his brother would do.

Sam stared down at the grave, admiring the polished stone and staring at the engraving. Just his name, and the date of birth and death. He placed one flower down on it, before moving on. His mother’s grave was the next one he visited, where he lay the bunch, wondering if he would ever really forgive himself for her death. No amount of Dean’s assurances could clear that guilt, despite him being a baby.

When he opened the door to the house, it was his brother that he first spotted. Sitting at the table, his head shot up instantly, the worry-lines disappearing when he spotted Sam. The younger Winchester gave a nod, shutting the door, realising he had gone out short-sleeved. Huh, so much for a bad day. The kitchen was his next destination, taking out a pomegranate, which now appeared every week on the shopping list.

‘MOOSE! HELP!’ Gabriel came skidding in, a hairbrush caught in his messy birds-nest hair. Dean was laughing, Castiel appeared around the door, a smile on his face softly. Leaving Dean to answer the knock at the door, Sam walked to the man that flirted with him consistently, gently untangling the hair from the brush. Gabriel waited patiently, well, Gabriel-standard patiently, only wiggling a little bit. Sam stared down at the bumble-bee leggings, remembering the hospital, then looking to Cas.

‘I bought them. Thought they’d suit him.’ Sam hummed in agreement, leggings did do wonders for the shorter man’s legs, and he knew it. Grabbing the brush and pecking Sam’s lips before the Winchester could complain, Gabriel bounced to the fridge. Sam looked away when he purposefully bent over, and Castiel choked slightly on the cereal he was eating.

‘Guys.’ Dean walked in, looking happy. Jody was right behind him, Sheriff’s uniform on, smiling at Sam. He gave a nod back, before raising an eyebrow at her expression.

‘What’s going on?’ Sam inquired, looking intrigued.

‘Got a big case for you to work on. Pack your bags, boys, you’re going to England. All of you.’ She added, and Dean cheered happily, the prospect of a holiday amusing. Sam wondered what the case was, and how the British had heard of him, but was distracted by the happiness on his brother’s face.

‘It’s for work, Dean.’ He scolded, although a fond smile crossed his face as Dean stuck his tongue out.

‘You won’t be working all the time, Bitch.’ Before he could call Dean a Jerk, Jody cleared her throat, tapping her watch.

‘Get a wriggle on.’ All four boys raced to the stairs at the same time, and it quickly became a fight to get up them, Dean attempting to haul Gabriel out of the way. Sam, cheating slightly by using his strength to barrel Cas out of the way, grinned internally. This was his life now, this was his family.


End file.
